


Blank Spots

by CanadianSummer



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, During Canon, Established Relationship, F/M, Falling In Love, Fix-It of Sorts, Hypothermia, One-Sided Relationship, Slow Burn, for a while, or a creative license on it, or re-falling in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:33:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 55,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23783215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanadianSummer/pseuds/CanadianSummer
Summary: After waking up at the base of a steep incline and nearly freezing to death, you stumble upon a group of strangers who swear up and down that they know you.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character(s), Arthur Morgan/Reader
Comments: 53
Kudos: 404





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has not left me alone and it’s evolved into a thing so here we are. I suppose it is kind of a reader-insert, but it could also just be an original character as things progress. The second person worked pretty well with the plot.

Slowly blinking open your eyes to almost endless white, it made you think that you had to be dead for a few moments.

Whatever peacefulness that could have been taken from that thought had left you as soon as you could feel the stinging of coldness biting against the skin of your face, burning in waves as you took in a short breath to cough out a wheeze from your lungs. Inhaling brought about a heavy ache in your ribs, but it was almost completely overpowered by the throbbing that came from across your forehead, resting sharply behind your eyes and into your teeth as you let out a low groan. Gingerly, you moved an arm. That didn’t hurt, but it felt heavy, raising it up to be met with an unfamiliar jacket and gloves that you were wearing. The material was stiff with ice and snow, creaking and bending finally with some force.

The cold was now settling heavily into your bones, making your body quake and teeth chatter as you sucked in another deep breath that went in easier than your first.

_Where in the hell…?_

You...honestly weren’t too sure how you ended up in the situation you were currently in. Most recent memory you had was your uncle talking to you outside your home in...in Tumbleweed. Yeah. What that conversation was about, you had no idea, but it certainly didn’t explain how you ended up in the snow. Slowly, you shifted your legs, the fabric of the clothing you wore stiff and freezing to the touch of your skin. Everything hurt, you could almost feel every ache with each beat of your heart. Still, despite the protest in your ribs and back, along with the heavy swaying in your head, you had managed to gather yourself to a stand.

The sharp winds whipped around you, the area cast in white outside of a few cliff edges and, upon looking up, you could see more of the mountain side that you had been laying at the bottom of. Had you fallen? Maybe. It certainly felt like it. Yet, it still didn’t explain how you were on that cliff edge to fall off in the first place. Still, standing around to freeze to death wasn’t a good plan and you started to stumble your way toward more of the edge you had been laying on.

It took quite some time before you were able to pull yourself up onto a flatter and wider surface, the mountain yawning open before you as you stared down into the crevices and drops. Eventually, you seemed to find something that seemed like actual ground, dead vegetation peeking out from under the thick blanket of snow. With the snowstorm raging, it was hard to make sense of where you were. You couldn’t see anything but snow. Any hope of finding smoke or signs of life was fleeting as you realized just how bad the situation was. Your limbs shook and it felt like you were walking with large rocks tied around your legs.

Time seemed to slow and stretch, the skin exposed to the snow and air outside burning and stinging as you continued to walk in any direction. Though, upon hearing the sound of rushing water and more trees appearing around you, it was enough to push you into following it down toward a river.

Arms wrapped tightly around yourself, you decided to follow it up to wherever it may lead. Death or salvation, it was hard to see but you figured the cold would drop you eventually if it was your time.

Nightfall brought more challenges than you were really aware of.

With how mindlessly you seemed to press on, it was easy to not really notice how quick the light around you was fading, the cold biting your skin almost feeling like open flame at this point, yet you couldn’t seem to feel much. Your jaw, your fingers, your legs. It caused a couple stumbles and falls, your body almost begging you to just lay down in the snow and go to sleep. Yet, in the back of your mind you knew that was a terrible idea. So, each time you gathered yourself on whatever strength you could gather before carrying on to follow that river.

As it would turn out, you had at least made the correct choice there. Really, it was hard to focus with the exhaustion that was settling in, but eventually you found yourself wandering down toward more packed snow. A path. There were fading horse tracks that were stretching on out through the trees. So, abandoning the river, you decided to follow those. Really, every moment seemed to stretch on for hours, your legs weak and aching as you continued to push your way through the snow, but the more compact bits at least gave you some relief from that. Though, it still felt like the weight on your legs was pulling you down further and further with each step.

However, some lights appeared ahead. Dim and barely there, but it was enough to have you walking toward them. Eventually, you could start to make out some buildings, frozen and rotting out in the snow like you could feel yourself starting to do. Though, the horses had you making quick strides, seeing some figures moving about and stepping into a building that left you alone to wander into the rundown area. Upon seeing the small fire sitting out in front of one of the buildings, you almost stumbled over yourself to get near it. Falling like a sack of bricks, you collapsed down into the snow beside it, the heat almost hurting in a similar way the cold did but you wanted _that_ more than anything else at the moment.

However, that relief was short lived as you heard something shift behind you, an unfamiliar voice calling out with words that didn’t really register in your mind. Though, you groaned at the feeling of hands gripping at your shoulders, rolling you over none to gently onto your back as you blinked, your eyes taking a moment to register the figure above you and the barrel of a gun shoved near your face. If there were words in that moment, you couldn’t seem to find them as you parted your mouth, lips flaking and dry from the cold.

“...Oh--Oh, god, you’re alive.”

The weapon was instantly dropped, the hands gripping at you loosening some as the figure bent down some into the firelight as you could make out the face of an older man. He was bundled up, scarf around his neck. You groaned slightly upon him sitting you up, the momentarily forgotten pain in your ribs and back coming back suddenly with a sharp flare. You could feel him move your arm up and around his shoulders, raising you up to your feet again. A protesting sound escaped you as you reached out toward the warmth of the fire again, your legs feeling limp.

“We can get you to a warmer place than this, dear, c’mon,” the man said, pulling you along toward another building as you forced your legs to work again, “Grimshaw! Anybody! I need help out here!”

A few moments passed before sure enough a door opened into another dimly lit building, a woman stepping outside before she paused as the man tried to lead you toward her.

“Get her inside, quick!” she exclaimed, taking your free arm somewhat gently from under the elbow as you were pulled forward by the two of them. There were many people inside, it almost looked like some sort of hall with pews to sit on and someone laying on a bed at the far end of it.

“We need blankets, spare jackets, anythin’,” the other man ordered from near your head, helping you walk toward a fireplace, where your legs almost gave out again before you were finally allowed to lay down on the somewhat warm floor nearby. “Found her curled up near the scout fire outside, probably would have been dead by mornin’.”

“Well, Mr. Matthews, I should hope that won’t be the case with her doin’ so in here…” the woman spoke up again, a heavy blanket wrapped around you as she secured it around your head and back. “That wound on her head doesn’t look good.”

Really, you almost couldn’t feel it with how numb a lot of your body had become. Though, you soaked in the warmth from the fire and the blanket as you rested your head against the rough wood of the floor. There were some heavy footfalls approaching from where you had entered, your gaze focused on the flames as you didn’t have the energy to lift your head to see who had just walked in. Though, you could see a bit of the figure of Mr. Matthews turned to glance toward who had entered.

“We heard the commotion,” a new, gruff voice stated, a small ping of familiarity there but it was almost so small it floated into the back of your mind in light of everything, “The hell’s goin’ on?”

“Arthur…” Mr. Matthews started, a small silence following before a pair of boots appeared in your field of vision, a new man dropping down onto a knee as you felt a hand resting on top of the blanket covering your head. Gingerly, you turned your head up slightly to look into his face, shock and concern heavily resting in his features as you blinked up at him. He shifted the hand down slightly, hovering over where the wound on your head likely sat before he let out a breath.

“Christ...I thought you’d died, darlin’...” he muttered, laying a warm hand against your cheek that you soaked in if only for the feeling against your frozen skin. You dropped your gaze as he glanced up to address the people behind you. “Micah’d said…”

“Perhaps he was wrong,” Mr. Matthews muttered, letting out a sigh as you felt a hand grip at your shoulder as the man in front of you returned his gaze to your face. He looked at you as if he _knew you_ , yet…

You let out a slow breath, groaning slightly as you tried to find the words that had been shut out behind your chattering teeth and chapped lips from the journey to the place you currently were residing in.

“I-I...I have...n- _no idea_ who...any ‘f you are.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second part to this! Thank you all for the warm response to this, I’m personally having a lot of fun writing this. I feel this chapter is a little slow but hopefully it holds up to expectations.

“She’s delirious.” 

Susan’s voice was firm, edging along the line of dismissive, as you had left your words hanging in the air before placing your head back down and promptly passing out. She stood to her feet from where she had been crouched next to your body, turning to glance toward Hosea who met her gaze with a questioning look, his brow tight. However, neither of them looked as confused as Arthur did, who remained where he had crouched down in front of you, almost staring holes into the floor beside your head. 

“Trekkin’ through all that snow and that nasty bump on her head? She’s probably just confused,” she continued, pausing to let out a slow sigh that escaped in a light mist from her mouth. This wasn’t the best place to nurse you back to health from almost freezing to death, it was a task alone making sure John didn’t meet the same fate on top of his injuries. 

“Micah’d swore she fell off some cliff edge that night Dutch rode out with us lookin’ for supplies,” Arthur commented, rising up from his place on the floor, “Said there was no way she survived that. Now I’m thinkin’ the bastard didn’t even bother to check.” 

“It was a terrible storm,” Hosea commented around a sigh, “Still is. Might’ve been no way to check, unfortunate as it is that she had to drag herself back here like she did.” 

“If she even knows where she is, who she’s with…” Arthur muttered, Hosea placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s been a long day,” Susan returned, “Let her rest and get warm, I’m sure she’ll be fine by mornin’ and won’t be talkin’ such nonsense.” 

“Sure.” He didn’t sound too convinced. 

“I think you should go back and get some rest, Arthur,” Hosea said, patting the shoulder he had his hand on before dropping it back to his side, “Nothin’ we can do for her now but let her sleep next to the fire.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her tonight,” Susan said with a nod, crossing her arms. Arthur really wasn’t too keen on leaving you alone, not after thinking you dead for a day. Not after this, and what you had just said. There was also the genuine confusion that had sat in your expression as you stated that you had no idea who any of them were, along with that wound on your forehead. It didn’t bode well. However, they were still stuck up in the snow and he already knew what Dutch would have to say in light of this. 

“Thank you,” Arthur muttered, giving her a soft nod before he turned to walk with Hosea back outside toward the building he was staying in with him, Dutch, and Molly. 

* * *

You felt like you were in and out for quite some time. Things would pop into existence in your otherwise dreamless sleep, bits of conversation that you weren’t sure were dreams or actually part of what was going on around you. Some movement, too, being carried, which had switched into a memory of your uncle carrying you back to the house as a kid at some point. It felt like it was faded around the edges, lacking in detail. There were a couple lucid thoughts that came into everything, remembering staring up at that vast white sky. Though, eventually, things started to be more solid, less fleeting, as you could feel the comforting warmth of the blankets around you. However, with that eventually came the starts of the aches and pains. It started in your legs and back, dull aches that kept pulling you further away from the comforting embrace of sleep. 

It was that pain moving toward your head, breaking out above your left eye and blossoming across your forehead and down into your jaw. It felt like someone was squeezing the sides of your head until eventually you woke with a low groan, taking in a small breath before your eyes cracked open. The room was bright from what you could see through the fabric of the blanket that had been secured around your head, and you could slowly start to feel that your stomach was very empty, making you a little queasy. It was hard to tell where you were for a few moments, though the memory of that fireplace and dirty floor seemed to come back into focus. The concerned faces. 

_ What the hell was happening? _

Slowly, you managed to shift your limbs, legs stiff and the motion of shifting one over the cot had you gritting your teeth slightly. The room seemed to sway lightly as you sat up, hands gripping into the fabric of the blanket around your shoulders. The room you were sleeping in was...bad, to say the least. You could feel the cold air from outside leaking in around your legs and feet from the holes in the walls, the floor itself littered with debris. The place itself seemed quiet, outside of some light creaking. You could see a broken bedside drawer, and another empty cot with the worn blanket and pillow. 

Though, a chair with a small pile of clothing caught your eye. It took a moment before you could recognize the outfit from when you had last woke, remembering the stiff and frozen gloves that sat on top of it all. Gingerly, you shifted a hand down to rest against your stomach, now just very much aware that you had been stripped down to your undergarments. 

“What in the hell…?” you whispered, letting out a soft grunt as you stood up on slightly wobbling legs from the lack of use and the quick coil of panic that was sitting in your gut. “Where the hell am I?” 

You shut your eyes tightly a moment, despite the throbbing in your head, as you tried to calm yourself and figure out what to do. Last night...the day before...you had woken up in the cold and had...wandered your way into a camp. That had to be where you were, but who were the people who found you? Why did they take your clothes off? 

Some stirring from outside caused your eyes to snap back open, a quick greeting and voice outside causing you to take a couple steps back into the room as you looked around yourself for something to defend yourself with. Unless you were looking to give the owner of the approaching footfalls some splinters, there wasn’t much. So, you took a breath in, feeling your expression tighten as you saw the door to the room pushed open. 

An older woman poked her head in, her own eyes widening as she noticed you standing between the two beds. 

“Well, it’s good to see you’re able to stand…” she commented, “How are you feelin’, miss?” 

“...W-Why am I undressed?” Great first question to start with. 

“I had to take your clothes off,” she remarked, “As the snow started to melt, they were getting wet and Mr. Smith pointed out that it could make things all the worse with how cold things have been ‘round here. There’s no need for alarm.” 

“I...I see,” you muttered, shifting a bit on your feet as you blinked heavily, “I...I’m sorry, thank you for your help. What’s your name?” 

The woman blinked almost owlishly at you for a moment before she let out a soft huff. 

“Susan Grimshaw,” she stated, “Are you still leanin’ into all that?” 

“Into what?” 

“Not rememberin’ us.” 

You let out a humorless huff. “No offense, Miss Grimshaw, but I have no idea who you are.”

There was a moment where she seemed like she might scold you like this was some game you were playing, yet as she stood there and met your serious gaze, her brow seemed to furrow some. With a slow exhale, she shifted to place a hand against your clothing in the chair. 

“...Well, regardless, you’re awake. These are your clothes, we let them dry by a fire so you could wear them once you were done restin’. Dutch and Hosea are outside, so I would get dressed and go talk to them.” 

_ Dutch and Hosea, like I have any idea who those two are… _

You gave her a soft nod before she was stepping out, closing the door behind her. A slow breath escaped your lungs after a moment, your mind racing and stomach twisting. Even with some interaction, you still had more questions than answers. You dropped the blanket back on the cot you had been sleeping on, the cold air immediately pulling a shiver from you. You knew from the pain in your limbs that you were probably bruised to hell in places, but you didn’t want to look in the moment, pulling the clothes back on. They were a little cool to the touch from the air in the room, but they weren’t the frozen pieces of fabric you could remember wearing before you had apparently passed out on that floor. As you finished shouldering on your jacket, the belt shifted and fell onto the floor with a dull thud. There was a gun resting in the holster, a frown crossing your face. 

“This mine…?” you muttered to yourself, bending down to pick it up. You weren’t a stranger to guns, your uncle had been keen to make sure you knew how to use one but you couldn’t remember really getting one of your own. Still, it was with the pile of clothes. You set it back down on the chair, pausing a moment to press your hand against your forehead. You felt some fabric under your fingers, causing you to pause as you tugged on it lightly. 

Bandages? Well, at least some makeshift form of them. 

“Christ…” you whispered, rubbing the sore side of your jaw. With some hesitation, you eventually approached the door and pushed it open to step outside. The building opened up to an equally as run down main area where a couple tables littered with debris and cabinets sat. There were two chairs in front of a fireplace, two men talking amongst themselves before you had stepped out into the open. You could recognize one of them from the other night, the older man who had been pointing a gun at you before helping you walk into one of the other buildings. 

_...Mr. Matthews. Right.  _

“Well, our own camp’s sleeping beauty finally woke up,” the unfamiliar man stated, raising from his chair with a small grin tossed your way. His tone was somewhat light, almost teasing, but you didn’t know what reason he had to be so familiar. 

“How long have I been sleeping?” you asked, your brow furrowing. 

“A day,” Mr. Matthews stated, “Are...Do you remember what happened?” 

“Somewhat,” you returned, pausing as the other man approached you, “I’m just...really confused on what is happening.” 

“We are trying to  _ survive _ and escape his frozen hell, that’s what we’re doin’.” You felt the other man place a hand between your shoulder blades, leading you over toward the fireplace where they were sitting. “Now I’m thinkin’ you was doin’ just that as well.”

“Do you remember what happened to you?” Mr. Matthews asked as you were led toward the vacant chair, welcoming the chance to sit as you gave your still tired legs a rest. 

“Yeah, a bit,” you stated with a soft nod, “Where am I?” 

“An abandoned minin’ town in the mountains,” he replied, “You don’t remember comin’ up here?” 

“Not at all.” 

“...Huh.” 

“You have no idea who any of us are?” the other man asked, crossing his arms. 

“No, I-I’ve been  _ trying _ to say that all along here…” you returned with some frustration leaking into your own. You watched as Mr. Matthews rubbed at his face, the other man looking over your face a moment before letting out a quick breath. 

“Well this is somethin’, ain’t it?” he muttered. 

“What do you remember?” Mr. Matthews asked, glancing back toward you. 

“I…” you blinked, letting out a sigh through your nose as you tried to keep yourself calm, “I remember...standing outside of my uncle’s home. We were...arguing about something, but I don’t know what. It was hot, dusty. I know I grew up in Tumbleweed, I remember that pretty well. Outside of that...I just woke up at the base of a cliff edge out here, freezing, until I stumbled across this place…” 

“You don’t remember anythin’ about ridin’ with us?” the other man asked, letting his arms fall to his side as he looked at you with a tight expression. 

“No, I...I didn’t even know I  _ did. _ ” 

“That wound on her head, I mean…” Mr. Matthews started, turning to look up at the other man as he ran a hand over his face a moment, brushing his mustache in thought. 

“Can…” you started, feeling the tightness in your gut, “Can somebody just... _ please _ tell me what’s going on?” 

In that moment, the door to the building opened, causing you to jump as attention was pulled away from you as another man stepped in. He was clad in a heavy blue coat, black hat resting on his head as he blew into his gloved hands. Though, his eyebrows rose some upon glancing toward where you were sitting. He was that man from the other night, the one who had been crouched down in front of you, looking at you with that concerned expression.  _ Arthur, his name was? _

“Everythin’ okay?” he asked, stepping further into the room once the door had been shut behind him. 

“Depends…” 

“We was just talkin’,” Mr. Matthews started, “Seems like all she’s said the other night is still true.”

There was some tightening of the expression on Arthur’s face, a deep set frown as he seemed to be looking you over intently. You could feel the bubble of panic you had shoved down in the room before starting to surface again. There was a tightness to your gut, your head starting to pound a little more at the sensation. 

“ _ Please _ ,” you snapped, “Please, can somebody just...tell me what the hell is going on here?” 

“...We don’t rightly know,” Mr. Matthews started, causing you to let out another slow breath through your nose as you blinked heavily against the pain in your head, “You...Well, we thought you had died during that snowstorm. Least...that’s what we were told.” 

“You...all seem to know me,” you said, more of a statement than a question, “It’s just...the strangest damn thing.” 

“Well, you did run with us,” the man nearest to you stated, “My name’s Dutch van der Linde, you have no recollection of that?” 

“No. No...Dutch, I don’t.” 

“I’m Hosea Matthews.” Hosea shifted, gesturing a hand toward Arthur. “That there’s Arthur Morgan, you two was...romantically involved. You remember any of that?” 

“I...no. I…” you let out a soft huff, “I’ve never met  _ any _ of you before in my life.” 

It was almost laughable, in a terrible way. 

You, somehow, seemed to have some rather detailed past with these people, yet you couldn’t even remember their faces or names. It was distressing--how much did you  _ really _ know? It had you curling your hands in your lap, heart pounding away in your chest. You had been riding with them? You had no memory of that happening. You were involved with Arthur? You had no memory of how you met, when you decided to get into that with him. A part of you almost wanted to accuse them all of playing some sort of game with you, to knock it off. Yet, they all seemed as serious about knowing you as you were about not knowing them. 

“This...is a chance,” Dutch stated, moving about slightly to come to stand between the three of you, “The fact that you survived at all is damn near a  _ miracle. _ That you made it back to us.” 

“I think you’ll have to forgive her and Arthur for not feeling the same way,” Hosea spoke up, his tone tight. 

“...My head is killing me,” you muttered, your voice smaller than you were expecting, “I just...don’t think I can handle this right now.”

“You should rest,” Hosea stated, “Maybe you’ll be able to remember things a little clearer after you’ve been able to fully heal. You can keep sleeping in Arthur’s room here.” 

_ Great. _ Still, you just offered a small nod before gathering yourself back up to a stand to pass by them to wander back into the room. Much as you were confused out of your mind about everything you had just learned, there was a part of you that felt bad more so for Arthur. You weren’t too sure what your relationship with him was, what was involved in it, but a part of you did want to apologize. It wasn’t hard to see the hurt that touched his expression at you stating you had no idea who he was, but it was an apology you really didn’t have the words for. 

There was the light prickling of tears in your eyes, your body aching and there was still the ever present feeling of exhaustion. Yet, whatever strength you had managed to gather had brought more confusion in light of it, and you couldn’t help but wish you had just remained asleep. 

You let out a soft sigh as you sat yourself down on the cot, shutting your eyes a moment. You could hear Dutch and Arthur’s voices somewhat through the door. 

“We need this train, and I need you strong and focused, son.”

“‘Course, Dutch…”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we should be moving out of Colter and into more of the meat of the game, but I hope this chapter is good nonetheless! Thank you all for the feedback on the first two!

Admittedly, when he had stepped into that building to see you awake and upright, there had been that tight ball of hope in his gut that rest had been enough to make things go back to normal with you. That Grimshaw was right and it was just exhaustion from having to survive that fall.

Yet, that was quickly squished under the utterly lost expression that sat on your face the whole time Hosea and Dutch had talked to you. Arthur had never seen you look so confused before, so uncertain. For as long as he had known you, you tended to hide those feelings pretty well around other people. Around him, too. You looked so exhausted and just...not yourself with the bruises that littered your face and the makeshift bandage wrapped around your head. You had no idea where you were.

Who they were. You had made that very clear, that strange tightness in his gut at the thought. Really, he couldn’t even bring himself to speak throughout the whole thing, something he kicked himself a bit over. Should have said something, maybe it...well, he had no idea. He had no idea how to deal with this. You had no idea who he was anymore. Admittedly, the relationship you had with him was still fairly young, only a couple months into it but...all of that was gone, now. You hadn’t even known his name, let alone the conversations, the admissions, the kisses, embraces. That was all gone. Well, perhaps not fully. He remembered it all, and Arthur wasn’t sure what was more painful at that point.

It did hurt him, something he was grappling with. A similarity between the both of you was the tendency to cover up insecurities, and he had certainly found himself doing so around camp while they were all trying to get out of the mountains. Yet, there was that familiar voice in the back of his head telling him that he should have expected something like this. Granted, it was in the most dramatic way possible in the moment but he should have. It was starting to feel too good, being with you. That it was fate that you would just... _forget_ all about him. He wasn’t sure if thinking you dead or knowing this hurt more.

Yet, he knew he needed to focus. Dutch’s hand on his shoulder and his words reflecting that thought. They were still stuck up in the mountains with the damn O’Driscolls.

So, once you had exited back into the room he had been staying in, Arthur had gone to Pearson with the intention of figuring out what he needed before this train robbery. Heading out to hunt with Charles was a bit of a welcomed distraction from the thoughts that were circling, yet he still couldn’t quite shake it. 

Really, it wasn’t much of a surprise that once he let that arrow release toward the final deer they needed for dinner that night, it sailed short and hit near the animal’s hooves. The deer’s head shot up immediately before turning and making a quick dash toward the river.

“ _Damn it_ …” Arthur cursed under his breath, raising up from where he had been crouched in the snow. He had hit the first one just fine…

“That’s the rest of our dinner,” Charles commented from somewhere behind him nearby, “I don’t think the one is just enough.”

“I got it…” Arthur muttered, his voice low before he glanced back toward Charles, “If you can get the horses back ‘round there, I can load up the both of them and we can get out of here.”

Charles met his gaze, his brow furrowed a moment but he eventually nodded. “Sure, but you better go fast before that deer gets too far away.”

Chasing an animal through fresh snow was proving more difficult than expected, legs sinking in to just below his knees with each stride. He really couldn’t help but curse his luck throughout this whole thing. The situation as a whole.

Dutch was bright-eyed and focused on this train, Arthur knowing he had been initially nervous about the prospect of robbing a train when they were stuck where they were, but Dutch seemed confident that it would get them out. That they would need it to do so, so long as they remained alive to see it through. They had already lost Mac, Davey, and Jenny, with Sean uncertain. They had almost lost you, too. He could still remember what Micah had said when they had met him out in the middle of that snowstorm, talking about the spooked horse and the cliff edge in a tone that Arthur still had a hard time registering as genuine remorse or not. The whole thing hadn’t seemed real at the time, Arthur couldn’t remember if he had reacted at all.

_“Did all I could for her, promise. Just can’t see two feet in front of me. There’s no chance she was makin’ her way out of that one.”_ Yet, somehow you had.

Still, Dutch didn’t want to see them losing more. Arthur just had to trust that, he supposed. That was all he really could do.

Finally, the arrow seemed to hit its mark once the deer had slowed in a clearing, Arthur feeling his legs burning and the days with little food weighing on him. On all of them, he could only suppose. So, the deer might at least give them a fighting chance for a bit.

“You seem distracted,” Charles commented once Arthur had loaded up the deer onto the back of his horse, watching as he hauled himself up onto the horse, “Though I can understand why.”

“We just need to get out of the damn snow,” he remarked, “Maybe then we can start thinkin’ a little clearer…”

Charles made a low sound of agreement, starting to steer his horse up toward the path they came from. Taking that answer, he seemed to drop the subject as he and Arthur started to make their way back to camp with what they had hunted.

* * *

Despite how much you needed it, you couldn’t seem to find sleep.

You had managed to doze off for a time, but it didn’t feel like much before you were left to your thoughts again. Somehow you had many and yet none at all. None that really mattered to the current situation. You had spent some time sitting with your eyes closed, trying to reach into the back of your mind for something that seemed familiar about the whole group. You tried to remember Hosea, yet all you could really pull up was the vague memory of him rolling you over in the snow after you had fallen by that fire. Dutch...well, you really only knew him from inside that room earlier, couldn’t even put a name to his face, same with Arthur if someone hadn’t said his name the night you had returned to their little camp.

_Your_ camp, too, apparently.

Really, you couldn’t help your thoughts turning around to blame yourself for this. Reasonably there was no reason why you should, yet you couldn’t help but wish you hadn’t fallen. Hadn’t hit your head. Maybe you weren’t being careful. Why were you out there to begin with? It was a frustrating turn to take. More than anything you just wanted to remember. You had some memories, you knew where you came from, some events in your childhood and early adulthood but those weren’t helpful in your current situation. There was a sizable gap between then and the current situation.

However, you didn’t get to think about it for too long before you heard someone enter the building you were in, making their way toward the room you were in before the door opened to reveal Arthur carrying two plates of stew, some fabric wrapped around one of his gloved hands.

“How you holdin’ up?” he asked once he had stepped into the room, pulling a small shrug from you.

“I’m alive…” you replied, Arthur not really replying in return as he placed one of the plates down on one of the nightstands in the room before holding the other out toward you.

“Here...ain’t much, but since you haven’t eaten anything today it’s better than nothin’.”

“Thanks,” you replied with a nod, taking the food from him.

Really, you hadn’t been all too ready to leave the building and having to see all those unfamiliar faces and how they likely all knew who you were. It was almost intimidating. So, even though the broth was watery and vague in flavor, it was warm and filling so you ate it willingly. With how things were around there from what you could gather, it was likely they didn’t have much on hand to help with that. Arthur ate his own meal in silence as you took down your own, taking it a little slower to lessen the nausea it could cause. With everything that had been happening, it felt like your stomach was doing flips at points. Though, despite that, you found yourself speaking up after a few moments.

“So apparently there’s a train?” you asked, glancing up toward him once Arthur had done the same to you in response to the question, a somewhat questioning look to his gaze. “The walls are falling apart, I can hear more than people probably think.”

“This is...the first time we’ve all had walls ‘round us in a while, so I would get used to hearin’ more than you wish,” he returned, glancing down a moment, “Though, yeah, Dutch’s got plans for a train comin’ tomorrow.”

“...So you’re outlaws?” you asked, biting lightly at the inside of your cheek. It hadn’t been too hard to gather. There was no mention of a company that they belonged to, no real explanation why a group this big was hiding out in the mountains, armed guards…

“Yeah…”

You nodded lightly, letting out a soft sigh through your nose. It was...hard to decide on how you should react to that. You weren’t exactly raised up in the most... _functional_ of homes, try as your uncle did. He did some deplorable things to survive, your father too, and Dutch...well, that’s what he said they were all doing in those mountains. Trying to survive what, you weren’t sure, but hearing about this train...well, you figured they weren’t just trying to get a ride to the next town.

“Was I one? Or... _am_ I one?”

It was a strange thought you had to voice, but an ever present one throughout the day. You had some sense of self, who you were, but...it wasn’t much.

“Most folks who run with us, if not all...they’re thieves, killers, people runnin’ from somethin’,” Arthur explained, glancing toward you, “You’re one of us. I’ve seen you rob folk, seen you do more than just threaten with that gun. You got a price on your head and you’re known to be runnin’ with Dutch, so…”

“I…” _How were you supposed to react to that?_ Part of it almost seemed in line with what you had grown up with, yet...you just had no idea if you should feel horror. Accept it as part of this past you couldn’t remember. “All of this feels like some nightmare I’m just waiting to wake up from.”

“It is mighty strange to hear you askin’ these sorts of questions…”

Well, you were in agreement with him there. You let out a quick breath through your nose, pressing your lips into a thin line before glancing down toward the stew in your lap, stirring it lightly in thought.

“I should’ve been there…” Arthur stated, making you lift your head. It was hard to miss the frustration leaking into his tone, a frown crossing your expression. “Might have been able to...ah, _hell_ , I don’t even know.”

“I fell,” you stated, “Well, I don’t remember exactly, but I woke up at the bottom of that cliff so I can only assume that I had. I don’t think you were to blame for that, it could have all been on myself.”

He let out a bitter huff. “You don’t remember who I am and yet you’re tryin’ to comfort _me._ ”

“I feel bad, Arthur,” you admitted, “A part of me kept waiting for someone to just start laughing, admit they were playing around with me and clear up this confusion, but...everybody I have talked to has been very serious about it. I don’t remember what there was between us, and there is a part of me that feels bad about that. I know it doesn’t make sense that I do, but…”

In a way, you did care about him. Maybe not in the way he did you, in the way he was probably hoping you would return, but you could see the way he looked at you sometimes as you spoke. It pulled at you. Arthur didn’t reply as the both of you continued to eat in awkward silence, a part of you not too sure what to make of him or this whole situation. It was sweet that he wished he could do something about what happened, unfortunate that it was where he was trying to blame himself, yet...well, he wasn’t supposed to be a stranger to you. This was a hell of a situation, one you were struggling to really rationalize in your head.

Though, at the very least, the food was helping slight with the headache in your skull.

“Grimshaw asked…” he started, causing you to raise your head as Arthur set aside his empty plate, unwrapping the fabric from around his hand, “Well, I don’t think she asks much, but she told me to change the bandage on your head tonight since it’s probably going to be chaotic after that train tomorrow.”

“Are you expecting for things to go bad?”

“No, but if it’s still warm as it was today, Dutch thinks we should be able to get out of here.”

You nodded lightly in understanding, proceeding to let him unwrap the bandage from around your head. Considering how you had no recollection of your wounds being tended to, you couldn’t help but feel a bit of a drop in your stomach at the sight of the dried blood that was soaked into the old one. Keeping your gaze away from Arthur’s expression, you tried to keep your head as still as possible as he wound the new one around your head, but it wasn’t hard to miss the tension in his jaw.

“I have a lot of questions,” you blurted out, earning you a short huff from Arthur as you felt the slight tightness of the bandage around your head.

“Oh, I imagine you got plenty of them…”

“How long have I been running with you guys?”

Feeling the tug of the bandage being secured on your head, Arthur finally stepped back and let his hands fall back to his sides as you looked up at him.

“Couple years, I think,” he replied, nodding his head lightly. “Not extremely long, but...enough.”

“Is that how long we’ve…?”

Arthur shook his head, “No, only a couple of months with that.”

He almost looked like he was constantly in a state of holding something back, his mouth pressed into a thin line and his eyes taking in your expression. Arthur looked a little rugged, his beard getting a little long, likely from being stuck out in the snow. He was admittedly an attractive man but just...so unfamiliar to you. It felt like there was something, but it was hard to tell if there was any sort of recognition underneath the fog that had replaced your memories or if you were trying to just substitute what you didn’t know with what you were told about yourself. You could pretend. Nod along, play along, but you knew if anybody asked anything deeper than you being this supposed outlaw that was with Arthur, it would become obviously fake and just...not worth the false hope.

“You should get some rest,” he stated, breaking you out of your thoughts as you realized you had been staring at him, Arthur shifting away toward his own cot. You watched him for a few moments before letting out a slow breath, lowering your gaze to the floor for a moment.

“I know this must be hard…” you started, pausing as a voice in the back of your head hissed about why you were comforting him over something you had no control over, “I’m just hoping to understand, I’m not trying to disregard what we had.”

_What we may have had._

“I know, darlin’, I…” he paused at the pet name for a moment, letting out another breath before he shook his head. “Just get some sleep.”


	4. Chapter 4

The next time you awoke, it was marginally warmer than the last couple days in the room you shared with Arthur. 

A slow lift of your head and a glance around told you that it was well into the day with sunlight seen through the semi-broken window, Arthur’s cot empty. There hadn’t been much conversation after your meal last night. With at least a little bit of information on your situation and some questions starting to get answered, it allowed your mind to slow enough to sleep when your head wasn’t aching in pain. As you sat up, there was a sharp pain that appeared behind your eye below where the injury was, but it seemed to ebb out somewhat more than what it had been doing the days before. 

Still, you knew you should be taking it somewhat easy for a while. 

Rising up, you decided to do something other than hide out in the cramped room and stepped out into the main area of the building. The camp was quiet, knowing there was going to be a robbery of a train today so you figured you would be alone. However, Hosea remained behind, almost hunched over in the chair as he sat in front of the fireplace before straightening up slightly at your reappearance. 

“It’s warmer today…” you commented, taking a glance around yourself a moment as he nodded slightly. 

“It is. It’s good for us, means we can finally get outta here once all them return from that train.” 

There was a touch of something to his tone, a bitterness, but you figured it was better that you left that alone. Even if you had gotten out of this with all your memories intact, you had a feeling maybe it wasn’t best to question or poke at the higher ups in the gang. At least...well, you really weren’t sure how they ran their gang. If there was room for question. Dutch was charismatic, headstrong, but he hadn’t done anything so far that suggested you couldn’t mention things to him. Hosea, too. Still, you just...didn’t know. 

“How’re you feelin’?” Hosea asked, causing you to come back to the moment at the question. 

“Better,” you stated with a soft nod, “My head hurts a little less.”

“Good. There was a lotta concern over that bump on your head.” 

“Yeah, I...I could see that a bit in Arthur.” 

Hosea nodded in understanding, gesturing toward the chair beside him. You paused for a moment before deciding to take his silent request, sitting yourself down in the chair before taking a moment to take in the heat from the fireplace. 

“Told me a bit about that train, too,” you continued. 

“Well, you always did have an interest in them. Wanted to go on nearly every one we got our hands on. Maybe once you’re better you can get back to that…” he trailed off at the look on your face, meeting his gaze like he was telling you some story you had been waiting to hear, “Or not, I suppose.” 

“I just figured out last night that I was-- _am_ an outlaw, running with a group of outlaws. I shouldn’t be surprised, but any information on how I was before all this is something I can’t help but wonder about.” 

“Of course, I don’t blame you,” Hosea replied. 

“It’s just strange. I’m filled with uncertainty and a part of me feels bad because I know I’m not acting like myself, or at least the person people are expecting, as most people I’ve talked to seem to look at me like I’ve grown a second head.” 

“You certainly aren’t acting like yourself,” Hosea confirmed, “Suppose we’ll just...have to see what happens. If we have to get used to this new you or just wait a while longer before you start soundin’ like yourself.” 

You didn’t reply to that, looking away from him as you worried your lip between your teeth a moment in thought. He had a point. You could still talk, you had some idea on what you did and didn’t like, you had some memories. You weren’t a completely blank page just waiting for someone to fill. Yet, you still weren’t sure who you were, both past and present. You knew your name, your age, that you had a family somewhere. You had been told you were this outlaw, that you knew how to use a gun and liked to rob trains. 

If that was who you were now, you had no idea. It raised the question of if...well, if Arthur had agreed to be in a relationship with the previous you, was it fair on either of you to continue it as it were? 

“You don’t have to stay with us if you don’t want to,” Hosea said after your pause, causing you to glance back toward him, “I imagine Dutch’ll have _somethin’_ to say about that idea, but…”

“I really don’t know what I want, Mr. Matthews,” you muttered, earning a quick chuckle from him that almost dissolved into a cough. 

“Haven’t heard you call me _Mr. Matthews_ since you first joined us,” he commented, letting out a sigh as the light amusement seemed to falter somewhat. “Nobody’s forcin’ you to stay or go. Just...have you talked to Arthur about everythin’? What you’re wantin’ to do?”

“Not really. He answered some of my questions last night, but...that’s the hard question.” 

“No doubt.” 

“I can’t pretend…” you continued, “I can’t tell him the moments where I realized I...felt more for him than just a fellow gang member or pretend that I know what he’s like, why I decided to…” 

“You’re gonna have to start over,” Hosea replied, “In a lot of places, I figure. You didn’t just know Arthur, myself, or Dutch. You might have to decide on if bein’ with him is right at the moment, if he’d be willin’ to start over with everythin’.” 

“Would he?” 

Hosea let out a short huff, “I can give you an idea but it’s best you ask him yourself.”

“Any information helps.”

“He’s always been fond of you in ways...never thought it would get to where it is with him now, but…”

“Is it...is it _love_?” The question put a pit in your stomach, a part of you really hoping it was _‘no’_. However, Hosea let out another rough, wheezy chuckle as he shook his head. 

“Now that’s somethin’ I _really_ can’t answer for him.” 

Despite the situation and the thought, you couldn’t help the slight pull upwards to your lips at his response. Yeah, that was fair. 

“Thank you,” you stated, sincerity lingering in your tone. “For letting me ask strange questions and not putting a bullet in me a couple nights ago.”

“You remember that?” he asked, “Well, I came close. We’d just kidnapped that O’Driscoll, thought one of his buddies had wandered in after him.” 

“...You kidnapped someone?”

“Not me personally,” Hosea muttered, “Would’ve been more focused on makin’ sure we had enough here to survive the snowstorm, but...well, that’s somethin’ better left for you to ask Dutch about. It’s a long story but O’Driscolls have been a thorn in our sides for years, and us them.”

“I feel I get more questions every time I get one answered…” 

“It ain’t your concern right now,” Hosea stated, placing a hand on your shoulder before rising from his seat, “I would just focus on gettin’ ready to leave this place once all them get back.”

* * *

You didn’t know how far out that train was, but it was another sleep before Dutch and company had come riding in with the pride of a successful job in his tone. Arthur was notably missing from this little parade, but the flurry of action that followed after was enough to push that observation to the back of your mind. It was early morning, but people didn’t waste much time on getting the wagons ready to head out to where they had decided their next camp would be. 

Considering you weren’t even sure on where that was, it put a small twist of anxiety in your gut, but you had been allowed to be relatively hands off with the process with the weakness that still persisted from a mix of trying to heal your head and the lack of food. You weren’t the only injured person in camp at the moment, it seemed, as you had watched some people discussing what to do with a man named John and a woman, Sadie, who didn’t seem to be hurt but was definitely disturbed by something. Grimshaw, much as your first impression of her was rough around the edges, had seemed to get even more so under the pressure of getting the camp set up. You were getting used to hearing her ordering people around, though it wasn’t until some sunlight brought more heat that the snow and ice keeping the wagons in place were able to be removed. 

You didn’t have anything to really pack, and being pushed aside from doing much in your condition for the moment, it left you feeling out of place and just waiting for something. Eventually, Grimshaw approached you in a bit of a huff, pausing to point toward a wagon that was being loaded up. 

“We’re going to put you in with Mr. Marston,” she explained, leaving you to only nod along, much as you had no idea who she was talking about, “If he can keep awake for long enough, maybe the two of you can keep an eye on each other.” 

“Is he the man who’s been laid out in that cot in the other room?” you asked, “I remember him from when I showed up here. If anything, I don’t think I’m that bad, but I can keep an eye on him for now if that helps.” 

“Well, I appreciate that, miss, but as we needed it _more_ in closing up camp…” she remarked, shifting to look toward your forehead a moment. 

“Next time…” you muttered with an almost tense grin, though you found yourself almost flinching back when she reached out and gripped at your bandages. 

However, upon feeling her just check the wound, you relaxed somewhat as she looked at it a moment before securing the bandage back to where it was. 

“Well, at least Mr. Morgan has this wrapped properly so I don’t have to redo it for now…” she muttered, “That’s going to leave a nasty scar once it’s healed, but it’s lookin’ better.” 

“Feels a little better,” you said with a small nod. 

“Well, good,” she stated, “Go on, get ready. We have no time to be standin’ around for much longer.” 

You weren’t too sure what exactly you had to gather and ready for the trip, but you wandered back into the building you had been staying in to gather up what you knew you at least had. Securing the weapon belt around your hips, you took a moment to remove the gun that had sat in the holster. Thankfully, you at least remembered the basics your uncle had taught you all those years ago, but anything else would have to be relearned. Though, upon further inspection, it appeared a couple shots had been taken in the round, a small frown settling in your expression. You stared at it a moment as if the sight would open something up in your mind, but after nothing seemed to surface you sighed and tucked the weapon back into the holster and made your way back outside. 

John had already been loaded up into the wagon by the time you made it over there, climbing up into it before sitting down toward the back of it. You could hear some chatter around you, Grimshaw mostly with Dutch’s voice in and out. 

“Well, ain’t you a sight.” 

The voice came from behind you, near croaking but it caused you to glance back to see John’s head had tilted slightly toward you, peering out at you from the bandages around his face. You could see the ugly red gashes on his face that were closed haphazardly with stitching. Out of the two of you, it was clear he suffered more physically. Though, again, he was another stranger to add to the list of people who seemed to know you. For a moment you were about to go into the whole “I don’t know you, what happened?” piece that sat on your tongue, but it seemed to die a bit at the woozy state he seemed to be in. 

“I’m not the one with the ruined face…” you commented, earning a quick huff from him as he lowered his head back down a bit. 

“Ain’t always been anythin’ to look at,” he returned, almost a mutter over the noise around him. 

“Guess we’ll have to see how things are once we’re both healed.” 

“Mm…” It was a sound of agreement, but with how he seemed to nod off again after the words, you decided that was the conversation you would get for the ride to the new camp. You leaned yourself against the side of the wagon, listening to the people around you as you waited for things to start moving. Which, much as it was getting close to pressing on your patience, things eventually did. 

There would still be some snow to get through, more trees and mountains to be seen as the wagon moved along and away from the camp. Away from the lands that held some familiarity to you, even vaguely in parts. Still, you allowed yourself to shut your eyes, knowing John was just passed out as the movement and eventually the warming weather allowed for some sleepiness to take hold. 

However, it really only felt like you had slept for a couple minutes before you were opening your eyes again to the sound of some ruckus, noticing the drastic change of scenery as the light glow of a setting sun cast onto the green grass and tall trees that surrounded you, a river nearby. You raised your head slightly, blinking against the heaviness behind your eyes as you noticed one of the further off wagons had stopped, catching sight of Arthur stepping off to seemingly check on something. Well, at least he seemed to be around. You hadn’t seen heads or tails of him for a day, but you figured you might have to get used to that. Glancing back toward John, who still appeared to be asleep, you situated yourself back down into the wagon and soaked in the heat for a minute, much as there still was a slight bite to it. 

You couldn’t help but feel relieved to be out of the snow and cold, away from that terrible mountain and what happened on it. 

* * *

“Grimshaw suggested you might need some help?”

Less of a suggestion, really. A day and a half had passed since you had arrived at the new camp, your strength returning fairly quickly and Susan was also pretty quick to catch on to that. She wanted you to start helping out around camp again, something she claimed she had been fairly patient about. To her credit, she had been, much as you could catch the odd comment here and there. Approaching the camp’s cook had been her suggestion, his wagon thankfully already set up and hard to miss so you didn’t have to fumble around with the question on who he was. Still, despite that, he seemed somewhat surprised to see you standing before his table. 

“I’m gonna need all the help I can get,” he started, “I’m out of supplies, I need someone to go into town.” 

“Someone had mentioned I should check in with the doctor in town,” you commented, “I would gladly do it for you, but I don’t have a horse or much of a sense of direction out here.” 

“Well, it’s good we got a wagon and plenty of riders around here,” he said in return, leaning over to look over your shoulder toward someone approaching, “Mr. Morgan!”

You let out a slow breath at the sound of approaching foot falls, not too sure where the pit in your stomach came from. There hadn’t been too much time to really talk with him, Hosea’s words still circling in your head but you still weren’t sure how to go about bringing it up. It would have to be, eventually, but you still didn’t quite have the words for it. 

“What you want?” he asked, causing you to cast him a glance as he came to a stop beside you. 

“I need someone to go to the general store in Valentine to pick up what I ordered here,” the cook explained, handing him some paper, “and since she’s saying she needs to visit the doctor, figure you two could do it.” 

“Oh, so you’re callin’ the shots now?” Arthur asked, sarcasm heavy in his tone. 

“No, but I am _feeding_ you all. So, please…” 

“It’s not a problem,” you said, shifting away from the table. 

Really, you kind of wanted to get out of camp anyway, much as a part of you didn’t fully know where you all were while also still wanted to leave on your own for a while. You gingerly pressed a hand over your eye upon the small ache that appeared at the movement of your body, pulling a small sigh from you. Would be a while still with that, you supposed. Could have been worse, considering the injury, but it was still a bit of a pain to deal with. Outside of the obvious issue your memory presented, that is. 

“You need a doctor?” Arthur asked after a moment, causing you to pause as he moved on ahead toward where one of the wagons was sitting. 

“I need something for my head,” you explained, “Also, I think one of the women suggested doing so anyway, much as I trust you all in helping me.” 

“Oh, nobody here’s a _doctor_ ,” Arthur returned, “much as we do well for ourselves.” 

You let out a small sound of understanding from the back of your throat before waiting until the horses were ready, climbing up into the passenger seat with Arthur before heading down the trail through the trees and out of camp. Really, you couldn’t help but look around yourself at the cliffs and hills, the deer that would scatter off at the sound of approaching hooves. They had mentioned heading out east, somewhere you couldn’t recall ever heading out to. Your father and uncle liked to keep close to home out west, though...well, it was hard to tell if you had travelled anywhere else. Maybe not this far out east, but still. Somehow you had ran into these people, had stayed for a year or two apparently. 

You really didn’t want to dwell on the fact that a couple years of your existence had just disappeared. 

“I...hate to ask, but what’s the cook’s name?” you asked after a moment, Arthur glancing toward you with a slightly raised eyebrow. 

“You two ain’t been introduced?” he asked, then seemed to realize the answer to his own question, “Ah, guess not. Dutch hasn’t been exactly loud an’ proud ‘bout what’s happened to you. Some people know but not everybody.” 

“Neither am I.”

“His name’s Simon Pearson.” 

“I’ll try to remember that,” you muttered, “So, what does he need?”

“Nothin’ special, I don’t think. Corn, some provisions…” 

“He couldn’t get it himself?” Much as you appreciated the chance to get out, you couldn’t help but wonder why he couldn’t fill his own shopping list if it was that short. 

“Oh, he certainly _could_ , but he’s more at home hangin’ out in camp and butcherin’ what’s brought to him,” Arthur remarked around a small chuckle, “You used to avoid camp meals after a while. Used to get his feathers up.” 

“Huh…” That stew you had back in the mountains wasn’t exactly the... _best_ , but you figured it would change once there was a more ready supply of meat and things to cook with. 

“You still ain’t remember much?”

You shook your head. “Hosea mentioned that I should probably treat this like I’m starting over, but...I don’t know, some things seem familiar but I can’t figure out why.” 

“Familiar’s good news, I guess,” he offered with a small shrug. You could feel the addition to what you had talked with Hosea about sitting on the tip of your tongue, but you bit it back as you could see a small town appearing in the distance. That or perhaps you were a little unsure if you should agree to starting over or just...well, the alternative wasn’t really fair. 

What the hell was fair in this situation? You had no idea. So, perhaps that is why you decided to leave that for another time. Hopefully soon, you could imagine Arthur’s probably going to start wondering. 

Valentine wasn’t much to look at, _“mud and morons”_ as Hosea had said, but you couldn’t help but take in the liveliness of the people around you a bit. Granted, perhaps it wasn’t much, but compared to the bareness of the mountains and different from the faces you had been getting used to seeing around camp. You took in the buildings as Arthur led the wagon next to what appeared to be the stable, dropping down from the wagon as you did the same. Much as you felt your clothes were still a little warm for the town, Valentine was cool enough to at least let you not worry about it too much for the moment. 

There was a man standing at a table on the street for what appeared to be donations for some kind of charity, Arthur not really paying him much mind as he passed, leaving you to trail a bit behind him a moment as you watched the man coughing heavily into his arm. You watched him a moment as he lifted his head back up, a sinking feeling dropping down into the pit of your stomach as a quick feeling of recognition washed over you for a moment. There was a moment where Valentine had stilled and you were stuck with the feeling of your father’s hand gripping at your forearm, pulling you harshly into the house. You could remember glancing back to see a man and woman talking outside. Then they were gone behind a heavy door being slammed shut, your father’s voice ringing in your ears. 

_“She’s gone and married some softhearted farmer and suddenly thinks that gives her the right to tell me that I got no right to raise **my own** kid?”_

He had changed drastically from what you could recall in your memory--frail, sickly, his eyes sunken and rimmed in red. You found some words rising to the tip of your tongue until reality seemed to shift back into focus with the touch of a hand to your elbow, making you flinch. 

“Hey--calm down, it’s me. You ain’t heard me callin’ your name?”

You blinked up at Arthur for a moment before you shook your head slightly, swallowing down the tightness in your throat. You were pretty sure your uncle was standing on the street corner looking like he was slowly wandering toward death’s door, but...well, you weren’t too sure how to approach that situation in the moment. 

“Just--yeah. I’m sorry,” you replied, Arthur dropping his hand as he glanced toward the man in question before he glanced back down at you. 

“You becomin’ one of those givers to charity, now?” he asked, his tone teasing but it pulled a tension out of you that you couldn’t seem to explain in the moment. 

“I’m going to the doctor,” you stated, “I’ll meet you out here when I’m done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of struggled with what direction I wanted this chapter to go, if I wanted to attempt some sort of fix-it. However, after developing some ideas on a bit of a story line involving the Downes, I decided to go for it. Now it's just finding a balance of give and take so I'm not robbing too much from Arthur's development, but here we are. Thank you all for the feedback and attention this fic has been getting! I appreciate it at lot.


	5. Chapter 5

You couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

It had been a hard feeling to shake, knowing you had family and an outside perspective from who you were with the gang just sitting so close by. Even while you had let the local doctor examine your bruises and injury to your head, you still managed to feel somewhat out of place as you took the tonics he had given you for the pain and left the practice. If Arthur had picked up on the oddness, you were thankful he didn’t comment on it much. The ride back to camp was quieter than before outside of you explaining that there wasn’t much the doctor could do outside of give you something for the headaches. Really, the man had seemed fairly nonchalant as he examined your wound and eyes, the memory issue giving him some pause but ultimately you figured there wasn’t much that could be done. So, you had taken the tonics and left. You really had wished you had actually talked to your uncle instead of just going along, but...well, a part of you wasn’t sure if you wanted Arthur hovering over your shoulder while you did it. 

He had been nice enough to you, more than that really, but that was something you felt maybe you should deal with on your own. 

Still, it was hard not to allow some sort of distance between you and the members of the gang to slip into place as the days went along. For the most part you had kept to yourself, outside of when people approached you for conversation, and the odd bit you instigated when Arthur had returned disgruntled, talking about some debtors Strauss had sent him out on. He had seemed to hate it, but, well, you didn’t know if you could really tell his motives behind much of anything at the moment. Regardless, you had taken up whatever chore was asked of you without much complaint, if only to avoid argument and tension, taking the time doing the tasks to let you sort your head out a bit. Hosea’s words circled at points. You could leave. You knew there was a solid argument there that you could pose to Dutch, that you didn’t remember living this life and it’s becoming too much. However...well, it wasn’t. Not really. You weren’t unfamiliar to crime and outlaws, your father and the uncle that lived with you both were ones. Are ones? You didn’t know what happened to them, if they were still around, and that was what pulled you all the more toward the idea of going into Valentine to talk with your uncle. 

So, once Arthur and Hosea had left camp for a day or so, it had you putting a spare saddle on one of the horses you recognized from the wagon. However, you weren’t as unseen as you wished you were, considering you had to pause at the sound of footfalls coming up behind you. 

“Where’re you goin’?” It was an unfamiliar voice, a woman’s. 

She stood before you, holding a cup of coffee. She wore a heavy looking wool coat, her gaze not leaving yours as you turned to face her. It took you a moment before you recognized her as the woman who had been hanging around John--his wife? 

“I’m going into Valentine.” You decided to tell her. It wasn’t a crime. 

“You sure that’s wise? With your condition?”

“What condition? That I bumped my head?” you returned, furrowing your brow. You still wore the bandage around your head, but at least the bruising around your face wasn’t as obvious anymore. 

“You remember who I am?” she asked, tilting her head. It was asked in a somewhat pointed way, like she had a different meaning behind the question, but...well, you almost had to take it as a genuine question from anybody in camp at this point. 

“No…” you admitted, “I don’t remember most anybody.” 

“Abigail,” she introduced, “and it’s all the more reason to be careful.” 

“I will be,” you said, letting out a small sigh. “I’ve been doubling up on chores over the last couple days, I just…” 

“I ain’t gonna keep you from goin’,” Abigail replied, “Just be careful. Folk’s worried, much as you might not remember most ‘f us.” 

“...I know,” you said with a small nod. Oh, you knew. It was a hard fact to grapple with. You had all the intention to be careful not to draw attention to yourself, to the gang. It was the last thing you needed, especially if...well, if you ended up feeling more inclined to leave. 

You didn’t really want to sort through the time at the moment, leading the horse out toward the edge of camp before getting into the saddle and following the trail you and Arthur had taken into town the other day. Really, it felt nice to be out on your own for a while. Much as you tried to allow yourself some space in camp, you really weren’t out of earshot or eyesight of the rest of camp. The exchange with Abigail seemed to highlight that. Really, you almost felt like you needed it to sort through your thoughts. 

Talking helped, but you couldn’t help the small, doubtful voice in the back of your head that was concerned if you were actually remembering things or if other people were putting them in your head. 

It didn’t feel malicious, asking questions of Hosea or Arthur, sometimes Dutch if you could catch his ear, but it was hard to shake that question. 

You let out a small sigh, looking around yourself at the scenery that seemed familiar enough from the other day. It really was some pretty country out this way, but with how unfamiliar almost everything was, it was hard not to feel like you were grasping at anything that could be familiar enough to help you fill in some gaps in your memory. Which was what almost had you chomping at the bit to talk with your uncle in town, much as you weren’t sure if he would recognize you. You certainly recognized him, even if that memory was from...quite some time ago, almost a decade. You had still been young enough to have to be living with some sort of parental figure. 

Your father had certainly seemed upset about them being there, wanting to take you from him. Why? Well, you could take a wild guess, considering you could remember the bullet wounds, the wanted posters--though you couldn’t remember what had separated you from that point in time, just that you had. Living alone for a while, you couldn’t pinpoint a ton of memories from that point, other than...well, maybe that’s what got you in with the group you were with currently?

You had no idea. 

It was those types of thoughts that filled the space in time between riding away from camp and turning down toward the main part of Valentine, following along the road until you were approaching the butcher and the hotel. Sure enough, you could see that familiar figure by the table on the corner of the street near the stable. Letting out a slow breath, you rode your horse toward one of the hitching posts outside of the stable before dismounting. 

_What do I say?_

_Are you even sure about this?_

“Are you willin’ to give to the poor today?”

In your thoughts, you had wandered up to the table to where he was standing. You could see the same roughness to his features that you had noted the other day, the sunken eyes and gaunt features. You couldn’t help but feel strangely out of place under his gaze, which had turned from questioning to something out, like he was waiting for you to say something. 

“Um, I don’t...I don’t have a lot on me at the moment, but I just...are you married to Edith Downes?” 

“...Y-Yes? Do I know you?” 

“Possibly,” you stated, shifting awkwardly in front of him, “She is my aunt, which would make you my uncle…” 

Thomas seemed to stare at you for a few moments, taking in your expression before the confusion on his expression lifted, leaning somewhat against the table somewhat as he seemed to hold back some coughing from his chest. 

“--Sorry,” he said around a short clearing of his throat, “I...well, her family’s been estranged…” 

“I know, my father and uncle weren’t fond of her,” you said with a soft nod, watching as the statement seemed to pull some recognition to his expression. 

“We’d thought you disappeared,” he stated, letting out a short huff that might have been a laugh, “I...huh, well. You really do look like that kid.” 

“I remember you two as well,” you said with a soft nod, a small smile crossing your face. 

“How did you end up out here? We had assumed you were somewhere out west or…?”

You paused a moment, feeling a soft twist in your gut. Really, you wished you knew yourself, but...well, you also knew you couldn’t outright tell him exactly what you were doing. There was some sort of story that Dutch had mentioned when you had all first arrived at Horseshoe. 

“I got hired on with a company a couple years ago, we’ve been displaced and ended up coming down here,” you explained. 

“...I don’t believe it,” he stated in a way that suggested that he actually very much did, putting some further relief into you. “I was actually wrappin’ up here, I’m sure Edith would love to see you.” 

“Yeah, I’d be willing to come along if you’ll have me.” 

“‘Course.” 

* * *

Thomas was very ill. 

It wasn’t too hard to notice just from looking at him, but riding alongside him had you noticing how he carried himself. Tired--exhausted, even, and coughing more times than you could count as he tried to keep conversation with you throughout the ride. He had been trying to explain his cause in trying to raise some money for the poor in Valentine, which you couldn’t help but note that it was a noble cause for someone in his condition. You weren’t too sure just what he was sick with, if you would know. There was no way for you to be able to tell just how this reunion would go. Still, well, you hadn’t even thought that meeting extended family out this far would go in such a way. 

If at all. 

However, he seemed to believe that you were who you said you were, which put some ease in your while he led the way back to his ranch. It was a nice homestead based near a cliffside, a somewhat small home with what appeared to be a small stable and a fenced in garden. There was a woman heading back into the house when you and Thomas had shown back up, pausing in her task to watch as you rode in behind her husband. You could almost feel the suspicion from her, Edith tilting her head somewhat as you slowed your horse to a stop. 

“Who’s this?” she asked as Thomas lowered himself down from his own horse, causing you to do the same. 

“Our niece,” he explained, letting out a steadying breath as he turned to face you as Edith casted him a look like he had grown a second head. 

“What?”

“I grew up with my father and uncle…” you started, “In Tumbleweed. You and Thomas had visited once while I was small…” 

She seemed to take that in for a moment, looking you over with that suspicion still lingering in her gaze. However, she did take a step toward you, looking over your face a moment before her expression shifted, glancing back toward Thomas for a moment before back at you. 

“Well, I had...given up on ever seein’ your face again after that…” she said around a small exhale, “Wh-What happened to your face?”

Admittedly, you had almost completely forgotten the somewhat dirtying bandage across your head and the fading bruises on your face, eyebrows rising softly before you took in a small breath. How were you going to even begin to explain that to them?

“I had an accident,” you replied, “I hit my head real hard. I suppose it’s fine, doctor in Valentine said there’s not much he can do at the moment anyway.” 

“Did that happen while you were working?” Thomas asked. 

“Yeah, in a way…” It wasn’t exactly a lie. 

“It looks like some nasty business…” Edith stated, “This is...quite a turn of events. After your father died and your uncle was murdered a couple years after, you had just...disappeared. The sheriff in Tumbleweed had said you had taken off, couldn’t find you anywhere.” 

They were dead? You...don’t remember that at all. Well...the last memory you had before that mountain, it had just seemed like it was you and your uncle at that house, but…

“I-I…” you started, swallowing after a moment as you debated on telling them the truth. Though, with the injury, well… “I am...having a hard time remembering things after I hit my head. I had no idea that they…” 

“I’m sorry…” Edith replied, “That’s…” 

“It’s a hell of a situation,” you replied with a soft chuckle, “Doesn’t sound real, but…” 

“Well, it explains the lost look on your face…” she replied, “It’s not somethin’ we need to talk about right now, and it’s not exactly light conversation. Though, it’s quite the happenstance that you two have managed to find each other. That you remember us at all.” 

“It surprised me as much as you,” you replied with a small nod, offering a tight smile. Were these people the only family you had left? With no knowledge of what happened to your father and uncle up until this point, it now seemed like that might be the situation. 

Then there was the gang. You knew you couldn’t just run off, and a part of you would feel bad to just take off and leave them hanging. Dutch and Hosea had been nothing but accommodating to your situation, and Arthur even more so, much as you could see the struggle in him sometimes. Again, you weren’t sure what was fair in your situation, but...well, this new development just made things all the more difficult. Even if you left at this point, having them so close by? It would be a risk. You felt bad for doubting such, but you really didn’t know how Dutch would take you leaving with how you didn’t have the memories and experiences with them in your head. 

Somehow, despite not really being able to explain it fully in the moment, there was a part of you that felt some sort of loyalty to them. Edith and Thomas were your direct family, but…

“If the last time we saw you was when you were a child, I guess you’ve never met your cousin,” Edith stated after a moment, “I don’t think we have anythin’ too important to do tonight if you wanted to join us for the evenin’...” 

“That would, uh,” you shook your head a moment in an attempt to clear the wandering thoughts, “I would like that, sure.” 

* * *

Hosea had rode in a day or so after you had visited the Downes Ranch, Arthur following in behind. It didn’t appear like they had brought anything back with them, but you had held back the comment as you continued to set about your current task for the day. Really, your mind had started to circle, to an annoying amount at points, about what you were to do. You knew you would have to say something soon, to Dutch or Arthur. Though, with Dutch...well, you figured that would be a conversation about leaving the gang and it was something you were uncertain about. 

Edith and Thomas had been welcoming, their son Archie too in a distant way, but it was hard to feel like you wouldn’t be a burden on them to show up asking for the place to stay. They had bought into the story that you were with a travelling camp that had formed after you had been laid off from your former job, so it wasn’t like you couldn’t stay for the time being but…

Well, what _did_ you want? Did you want to leave? Did you want to stay? 

It was hard to answer. A strange hesitation, too, despite everything. You didn’t really remember most of what you had with these people, but just leaving them behind sat wrong with you. Not without some sort of conversation, not without sorting a couple things out. The realization pulled a small sigh from you as you had stepped away from a washing board. You had to talk with Arthur about things. Let him know what was going on at the very least, because…

Well, you weren’t sure why. You weren’t sure why you felt that he had to know, just that you wanted to talk with him. 

So, once evening had rolled around, you spotted him by one of the campfires in camp. It looked like he had just finished up with the stew for the day, deciding to take the time, much as there was a strange twisting in your gut. There was still some uncertainty in what you wanted, how you should approach what you had with him, and it had you wanting to pull away and leave it for another time. Yet, you could admit to starting to see how your view on that was starting to feel more like avoiding because it would be an awkward conversation. 

Have you had issues like that before? 

Doesn’t matter, a voice in the back of your head stated, this is now. 

“Hey, Arthur, you got a minute?” 

His head lifted at the sound of your voice, meeting your gaze a moment before he dropped it a moment before rising to his feet. 

“Sure. What do you need?”

“Just a talk somewhere without an audience,” you explained, offering a small smile before you were turning to head out toward the edge of camp overlooking the river near camp. Arthur’s footfalls told you that he was following along, much as you could feel some discomfort situating. The area wasn’t completely secluded, but at the time of night it was enough. 

“What’s happenin’?”

His voice pulled you a little further back into the moment, causing you to pause as you looked out toward the mountains in the distance, the trees. 

“I’ve been thinking, I guess…” you started, “Back in the mountains, Hosea had mentioned to me about what I wanted to do. That if I wanted to leave, he would help with Dutch.” 

“Is that what you’re doin’?” he asked. You couldn’t help but notice some tightness to his tone--if it was about the issue of knowing where they were that you worried about, or something else, you weren’t too sure. 

“I don’t know…” you said around a sigh, shifting to glance back toward him, “Part of me has to wonder if I should. I was part of this life, but...well, if I can’t remember it…” 

You trailed off a moment, biting at the inside of your lip. That guarded part of you was kicking yourself at the feeling that this wasn’t going the way you wanted, that what was coming out of your mouth was worded right. 

“Guess I understand what you’re gettin’ at…” Arthur returned after a moment, causing you to glance back toward him as you crossed your arms. 

“A part of me is saying that I don’t think I will, yet I keep wondering about it,” you admitted, letting out a slow breath, “I also can’t stop thinking about what’s fair for you in this situation. I know that we have something, but I--”

“Don’t stay outta some _guilt_ for me,” he snapped, his tone tight, “That ain’t...that’s not what I’d want.” 

“I wouldn’t…” you replied, dropping your arms back to your sides, “However, I can’t pretend, Arthur. It’s hard to be with someone when I have no idea on how I got there. I really do wish it was different, it’s not an easy situation for both of us. Now, there’s…” 

“If you want to leave, and Dutch’s given his approval, I won’t stop you,” Arthur replied, letting out a small sigh through his nose, “It makes sense. I can’t expect things to be what they was before you got hurt.” 

“...I appreciate that,” you said around a sigh, “It’s just a difficult situation. You remember that man in Valentine? The one asking for donations?”

“Sure…” he replied, his brow tightening in confusion as he looked to meet your gaze again. 

“It’s going to sound like a lot, but that man is my uncle,” you explained, looking over his face a moment before you continued, “The reason I locked up in town was because I remembered him from my childhood, felt like I needed to talk to him then and there. So, I went when you and Hosea had left. He’s got a wife, a kid--my aunt and cousin.” 

“You sure they’re who you think they are?” he asked, causing you to nod lightly. 

“They recognize me,” you replied, shrugging. 

“So you’re gonna leave to live with them?”

“I don’t know.” 

He let out a soft sound, almost a laugh as he glanced away toward the outside of camp a moment. “You’re not exactly givin’ me clear ideas on what you’re wantin’.” 

“I know,” you said, pressing a hand against your mouth a moment, “Hell, I don’t think I’m giving myself a clear idea. Though, I just...I don’t think I’m leaving. My uncle’s real sick, they don’t have much. Doesn’t make sense to impose when I have a place here. I just...I’m not sure if I should leave the idea behind.” 

Arthur let out a sound close to agreement at your words, letting out a slow breath. “...That frail lookin’ do-gooder in town is your uncle. The chances of that.” 

“Believe me, I know,” you said, letting out a humorless huff, “I just...on top of Hosea mentioning me leaving, we also talked a bit about...us.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, just about starting over,” you replied, “I just wasn’t sure...well, I know you know me from a time I can’t remember. There’s this expectation there, but…” 

“You wanna start over? With me? You don’t even remember anythin’ ‘bout me.”

“Which is why I feel it would be required,” you said, meeting his gaze, “As I said, I can’t pretend. However...there’s _something._ I can feel it sometimes. I just...I would need to get to know you again.”

You weren’t too sure what that feeling was exactly. If it was sympathy for his side of the situation or if it was something poking through from what lingered in your forgotten memories. If it was the former, you had to wonder if even _that_ was fair to build a relationship off. Still, you weren’t completely devoid of feeling anything for the people around you, some faces striking you as more familiar than others, certain objects, horses…

“Makes sense,” Arthur replied after a moment, shaking his head, “Hosea’s always gotta make such damn sense sometimes…” 

“He’s certainly observant.” 

“I’d be willin’ to try that, I guess. Startin’ over,” Arthur continued, causing you to raise your eyebrows slightly, “It’ll be...strange, but if that’s what you want to do…” 

“I would be willing, too,” you said with a soft nod, letting out a soft huff, “I already enjoy your company.” 

“Guess that’s a place to start…” he replied, meeting your gaze again as you felt a small smile touch your lips. 

“Yeah, I suppose so.”


	6. Chapter 6

He really had missed the little loud-mouthed bastard.

It wasn’t something he really wanted to admit, as Sean likely wouldn’t let him live it down. Though, he was a little more observant than he wanted to give him credit for, so Sean may have picked up on that already. However, Arthur had put up that sarcastic, prickly front, once they had managed to rescue him from the bounty hunters. Considering the chaos it brought, it wasn’t as much of a front as it usually was. Getting that close to Blackwater, seeing the Pinkerton patrol strolling along the cliff edge near the river separating his past, his longing to head out west, and the present where they were all stuck out east. It put him on edge, along with trying to plan how they were going to get Sean back.

There was no way they were going to be able to get back into Blackwater to get the money that had been left behind, it was a realization that sat in the back of his mind. Dutch seemed to avoid all talk about it, assured him that they would get back out west. Back where they would be free. Yet, things seemed rather focused on what they were currently doing out east. Maybe he would have to get used to that.

He was forcing himself to get used to a lot of things.

Charles, Javier, and Sean had separated after they had pulled off their rescue, Arthur riding back in toward camp at a quick but somewhat relaxed pace. He was away from the border out to New Austin, away from Blackwater, and away from the commotion they had caused in the bounty hunter camp. He allowed himself to relax a bit, knowing once he got back to camp, there would be something going on.

When wasn’t there?

He didn’t fully dread going back to camp, no, but there was a bit of a tension there. Arthur had no idea what they were doing, what was coming next, but getting Sean back was at least a step in the right direction. Davey and Jenny hadn’t made it, Sean had been up in the air, now there was just Mac but...well, it was hard to tell what happened to him. Wherever he was, he just hoped he was alive. Still, most of the focus lately was on how they were going to cope with where they found themselves currently.

It was a new land, something was always happening. _You_ had certainly found something.

Honestly, Arthur had to admit that he found it hard to believe the damn chances of just...running into your family out east. You rarely talked about your family, where you came from. _‘Out west,’_ you had often said.

Out west and not worth remembering.

How ironic that was, now.

Still, much as he struggled with disbelief about your uncle living just outside Valentine, there was a touch of hope about what you had talked about with it as well. Admittedly, when you had asked to talk to him in private a night or so ago, he had started to guard himself. That the whole thing was done, that you wanted to drop what you had with him. It hadn’t been as crushing as it had been with Mary, but...well, maybe it wasn’t right to compare, considering how young his relationship was with you before all of this. Yet, he felt something, and the idea that you were going to leave him because...

Well, he couldn’t blame you for doing so because you couldn’t remember him. There was still some frustration swirling in his gut over that situation. Not toward you, you had no control over what happened on that mountain, but there was a fair amount of it toward himself and Micah. He still had yet to really know how Micah felt about his involvement in the whole thing, but it wasn’t hard to guess where he stood about it. Yet, he couldn’t exactly ask, seeing as Micah and Lenny had left to scout ahead and hadn’t returned yet. Still, Arthur...well, he had felt some sort of way when Dutch had told you, John, Micah and himself to head out into the storm to see if there was anything to be found.

A part of him had wanted to protest at having you go with Micah, but at the time...well, they needed all they could get. You had just shook your head but agreed to what Dutch had told you to do.

Now, he wished you hadn’t.

He let out a slow exhale, bringing himself back to the moment as he trotted along on his horse, bringing himself back to the moment. Arthur knew he would have to return to camp, to see about Sean, but that didn’t have to be at the very moment.

Strauss was back with his debt collecting, and Arthur was usually the one sent to collect. He had given him a list, a couple names. Lily was up in Emerald Ranch, near camp.

He could collect her debt and be back before the day was out.

* * *

Camp seemed to come alive with activity, much to your confusion.

There had been a couple shouts and cheers, someone named Sean had returned. You knew the gang had lost a couple people while they were heading up into the mountain, but you hadn’t been keeping track on just who those people were. So, you had lingered back from the commotion, noticing Charles and Javier returning looking a little less thrilled, pulling some light amusement into your expression. Considering the way Sean’s voice carried as you would pass him in camp, you could start to understand why.

Sean was energetic in the face of escaping death, apparently, which made you wish you had the same outlook a couple days back when you had survived your own.

Then again, you hadn’t exactly returned the surprise and relief to be seeing these people again as they did you, and it didn’t seem like anybody was celebrating the situation they were in. Horseshoe Overlook wasn’t an abandoned, frozen, town left in the snow for time and nature to take it back again. It had certainly felt like it was being reclaimed, you didn’t miss the frigid air that leaked in from the holes in the walls and floors. Really, it made you enjoy the feeling of the sun at Horseshoe, much as the air did have a bit of a bite to it some days.

“Miss?”

The sound of a voice pulled you out of your head, making you jump slightly from where you had been lingering near a wagon, lost in thought. You hadn’t noticed someone approaching, Dutch’s voice recognized after a moment as you turned to look toward him. He stood a couple steps off from you, meeting your gaze with his eyebrows raised slightly--questioning.

“I’m sorry, Dutch,” you replied after a moment, shaking your head slightly, “I didn’t hear you approach.”

“I’d say,” he returned around a short huff, “I was hopin’ we could talk, you and I. About your situation.”

“There’s...not much to say,” you returned carefully, “I still don’t fully remember a lot, just some familiarity at certain things.”

“No reason to be wanderin’ off on your own, then?”

The question was pointed, making your eyebrows furrow slightly. Dutch met your gaze with a somewhat unreadable expression, hands on his hips as you picked up on the suspicion in his tone. A frown touched your face, a part of you wondering who had told him that you had rode out on your own--Abigail didn’t seem like she would have, but...well, the camp had guards, a number of people who could have seen you outside of her.

“I...found some family,” you replied, letting out a small sigh through your nose, “In Valentine. I had a hard time sitting around at camp knowing that, and knowing that I could run out of chances to really see if they were who I thought they were. I...I didn’t believe that was a bad thing?”

“It’s hard to say, considerin’ you know where we are but with you not rememberin’ us…”

You could pick up at what he was hinting at, your expression tightening slightly.

“I’m not leaving.” _At the moment._ “I used the story you told us to use when we first got here.”

“I understand…” he started, shifting in his stance somewhat, more open but there was still something there that put you a little on edge. “This is a hard situation for you, and runnin’ into familiar faces outside of us...I understand it can be complicated. You’d always told me that you had no family, or anybody to be worried ‘bout. We’ve been takin’ care of you, _all_ of us, even before all this. We’re a _family_ here, too. Hope you will remember that.”

There was a tension that flooded into you at his words-- _did he trust you?_ It seemed he was willing to give you some room, but...well, his words suggested that it wasn’t complete trust. Perhaps...well, perhaps you could understand a little bit. You had wondered yourself where that odd sense of loyalty came from when it came to the idea of leaving the gang behind, considering you felt you should have been regarding them as strangers. You had to wonder, too, if they would have cut you out if you hadn’t been connected with them as much as you apparently were. The question sat on the edge of your tongue, waiting to be let out, yet you managed to hold it back.

“I understand, Dutch.”

“This ain’t a lecture,” he stated, placing a hand on your shoulder, “We’re in a situation here, and it has a lot of _opportunity_ , but I need you to understand that.”

“I understand, I do. I haven’t given any of you away.”

He gave you a small pat before releasing his hold with a nod, leaving the conversation at that before returning to the fanfare about their returned member. You let out a slow exhale, pressing a hand against your forehead somewhat, careful not to press too heavily, much as the wound was almost healed. Dutch seemed like he tried to understand you, something you...admittedly weren’t sure on if it was just charm or actual understanding, but it made it sound like there would be issues aside from hurt feelings if you decided to leave.

Still, he hadn’t forbade you from leaving, but he made it clear that there was an expectation on which side he wanted you on.

* * *

Evening rolled in as Sean got settled, the start of a party happening around camp as you had slipped off toward the back of a wagon with a rag and one of the tonics the doctor had given you. You had removed the bandage from around your head, the fabric at least not bloody anymore as you had noticed the gash healing up. Still, you soaked a bit of the rag in the tonic, placing it against the wound with a small inhale through your nose. The headaches were stepping off a bit, much as sunlight made your head throb from time to time still, but the wound itself was still a little painful to the touch.

The whole thing was supposed to help, but you had to wonder sometimes.

Though, the sound of approaching footfalls made you lift your gaze from your boots toward where the figure of someone rounded the side of the wagon you were behind. You had seen her around, and had noted her to be one of the people the gang had picked up in the mountains, though it looked like she had been put in some clean clothes. She still looked rough, you saw her around camp but you didn’t feel like she was looking for conversation. Though, the mild surprise upon seeing you had you returning the look.

“I didn’t know anybody was back here,” she commented, causing you to lower the rag a moment with a shrug.

“I wasn’t staying long, just didn’t want an audience to treating this thing…” you returned. Though, the woman, despite her words, did not really leave after that as she shifted to sit herself down on a rock across from you. Even in the gathering darkness of the evening, you could tell she looked exhausted. “You’re the woman they picked up in the mountains.”

“So are you,” she returned, her tone a little tight but you saw her focus to your forehead for a moment, “That’s a hell of a bruise.”

“Still?” you asked around a soft chuckle, “Looks worse than it feels sometimes, then.”

“I...overheard ‘round camp that you’re sufferin’ from memory problems,” she commented, making your expression drop slightly as you pressed your lips together. It wasn’t great that that was the topic of conversation when it came to you, but it wasn’t like it was a false assumption.

“...Yes. It’s been a process.”

“Might not be as much of a curse as you make it sound…” she replied, dropping her head slightly, “Would give anythin’ to forget some things.”

“I...I’m sorry,” you offered up, watching as she raised her head in a half-hearted dismissal before you started to secure the bandage back on your head. If it was still that bad, maybe you should keep it on for the time being. Though, you paused as you stood to your feet, looking her over a moment before you held your hand out with an introduction, the blonde woman glancing up toward you before she shook your hand lightly.

“Sadie Adler,” she introduced in return, letting go of your hand. You were tempted for a moment to ask if she wanted to go back out toward the main part of camp, but it didn’t seem like she was up for whatever was waiting. 

Really, you weren’t too sure how to feel about a celebration yourself with everything that was happening. However, with you noticing Abigail approaching the two of you, you found yourself just giving a nod and leaving it at that as you picked up the medicine and placed it back down near your bedroll.

The camp really was alive with this little party for Sean’s return, people talking around a fire, some singing at a table near Pearson’s wagon, and there was some cheerful tune from Dutch’s gramophone in his tent. You could see the man himself swaying to the tune with a red-haired woman in his arms--Molly, if you remembered correctly. There was also a familiar figure and shirt just across from where they were dancing, Arthur and Mary-Beth swaying along to the music as well, though a little more stiffly than Dutch and Molly beside them. The sight pulled a small huff out of your nose, an amused grin touching your features before you continued on your way toward your bedroll.

You would need to figure out where you were going to plant yourself for the night, if you weren’t just going to curl up for the night. Which sounded...fun. Though, your mind seemed to linger on the image of Arthur dancing in the back of your mind, your mind recalling the movements and even that shirt as you got the image in your mind of your hands on his shoulders. You could remember the way the touch of alcohol had made your movements a little less controlled as they usually were, no music in your ears but you could recall how the air that clung to your skin was much hotter and dry than what was at Horseshoe.

There had been some conversation, though you couldn’t recall exactly what had been said, feeling yourself laughing lightly at something that had been said. You had reached a bold hand up, cupping the side of his face in your palm, recalling the feeling of his stubble against your skin there before you had leaned up toward his face--

_“There she is!”_

The call pulled you out of the thought-- _memory?_ \--almost as instantly as the feeling of an arm getting wrapped heavily around your shoulders did, the smell of whiskey hanging heavy against the red-haired Irishman who had settled himself against your side for a moment. Between the startle and the feeling that had hit you from the memory, you couldn’t help the small gasp as your heart hammered away in your chest, heat rushing lightly to your face.

“Avoidin’ me all day, I’m thinkin’ you didn’t miss me much,” Sean continued, releasing his hold as he moved back somewhat, stumbling enough to push aside the thought that he was saying so while sober.

“I…”

“Oh, c’mon, what’s the long faces ‘round here for, huh?” he asked, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder, “But, don’t worry. With me back in your lives, I’ll surely be able t’ bring back some _joy_ into it.”

“It certainly looks like you’ve found plenty of that _joy_ tonight…” you commented, deciding to play along. With how he was acting, you could suspect he may not remember it come morning.

“I am!” he exclaimed rather proudly, “You should, too! What happened? I leave for some time and you’ve forgotten how t’ have fun?”

“I haven’t,” you said around a somewhat awkward chuckle, “Don’t worry about me, just go enjoy your party.”

“I just missed you, is all,” he stated, sounding a touch sentimental, “So, go have some fun, or I might have t’ force ya.”

“Sure…” you returned, watching as he turned to return back into camp, heavy with drink. You let out a quick breath, shutting your eyes for a moment.

“Christ’s sake…” you muttered-- _just one thing after another today._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Earlier chapter this week because it's a bit of a filler. I followed the mission pretty closely, but I hope I put enough original stuff in there to keep it interesting. Thank you all for the feedback! I hope you enjoy.

“You ever learn how to fish?”

You glanced up toward the sound of his voice, raising your eyebrows slightly as you finished off the coffee in your hands. It was somewhat scorched, the taste of that not really lost on her but it was enough to give you some more energy. You tilted your head slightly in thought before shaking your head, glancing up toward Arthur. 

“I don’t think so, no.” 

“Well, Abigail’s wantin’ me to go do somethin’ with Jack and I figure I could teach the two of you. If you’re wantin’ to come along…” he trailed off as you pressed your lips into a thin line slightly, “Unless you got _somewhere else_ to be?” 

“Well, I was going to visit my aunt and uncle, but I suppose I could give them a couple hours before showing up there.” 

There was something to Arthur’s expression at the mention, something that had his expression tightening for a moment like he was going to comment on that, but instead he seemed to push it aside for the moment. It caused your own brow to furrow just slightly, but you rose to your full height as you shook out the coffee cup in your hand. 

“Sure, well, we should get goin’ soon before Jack decides he’d rather stay at camp,” he replied, turning to head toward where the child in question was sitting, making drawings in the dirt with a stick. “You still ain’t found a horse of your own?” 

“No, but I’ve been borrowing one from the wagon here at camp,” you replied, “He should be fine for now.” 

“If I’d known, I wouldn’t have sold the horse from the Adler Ranch after Hosea took me huntin’,” Arthur returned, earning a small shrug from you as you wandered off toward the Shire horse you had been using to get around. Really, it was a valid point. You still needed a horse. 

The idea of going out to do something with Arthur and Jack without the notion of gang activity involved? Well, it pulled at something in your chest, much as you weren’t too sure why it did so or what it exactly pulled at. You certainly hadn’t forgotten what you experienced at Sean’s party a couple nights ago, sitting on that information. Much as it haunted at the edges of your mind. You had wondered a couple times if it was just some...wandering thought on what it would be like to kiss him, but it felt too real. The movements that played out in your head were too sure and certain. 

Really, it had made you kind of glad that you weren’t able to catch his attention right away, as Lenny stumbling back into camp after escaping some sort of scuffle with Micah had given you some time to sort things out in your head a bit. He and Arthur had left for a night, and both had returned at different times over the next day or so, both varying degrees of severely hungover. So, you were glad this appeared to just be some fishing trip in light of that, too. 

You approached the two of them after you got your horse saddled up, leading him to where Arthur was hauling Jack up into his saddle. Jack glanced toward you when you had pulled yourself up into your own saddle. 

“She’s coming with us?” There was a touch of hopefulness to his voice that had you holding back a soft chuckle. You had to remind yourself that these people knew you more than you knew them, at this point. 

“Yeah, figure it’ll be good for both of you,” Arthur replied, placing a hand on his head a moment before he secured his horse’s reins from the hitching post. 

“Oh, okay,” Jack replied, glancing back toward you, “What happened to your head?”

“Oh, I...just hurt myself a little,” you replied, offering him a small smile, “It’s nothing to worry about. I would just worry about what fun your uncle here’s got planned.” 

Jack just offered you a small laugh and nod as Arthur turned his horse and started to trot out of camp, leaving you to follow out behind him. It was a bit of a leisurely trot, though quick enough to prove that there was a destination in mind as Arthur explained to Jack that he was taking him down to the river that ran by camp. You were half listening to the conversation, looking at the wilderness around you. 

Really, you were still fairly happy to be on your feet and out of camp for the most part. Much as you didn’t fully remember enjoying the wilderness as much as you felt currently, you knew there was an energy in you that kept creeping up the longer you remained around camp. Resting had been different, you barely had the energy to do much of anything some days with the pounding headaches at the sunlight and the aches in your body from healing bruises. However, that had been steadily fading as the days went along. Though you still had some sensitivity to light, especially after waking up. 

Wasn’t anything you knew that you could do, anyway. 

The three of you arrived at a river bank not too far from camp before you dismount your horse, watching as Arthur helped Jack down from his own before walking toward the water’s edge. You were...acutely aware that you didn’t have a fishing rod. Still, you found yourself enjoying being able to hang back and observe for a few moments as Arthur started to instruct Jack on how to fish. Really, you couldn’t recall a time where you had to learn to catch your own food, hunting or otherwise. Your father and uncle always used to get things from town, cuts of meat. 

Then again, there was a chunk of years missing from your memory where you weren’t living with them. 

Though, you didn’t get to linger on that too much before Arthur was turning to glance back toward you with a curious glance, causing you to hold back an awkward laugh. 

“You didn’t bring your rod?”

“I don’t _have_ a rod,” you returned around a light chuckle, causing him to raise his head in understanding somewhat before he returned his attention back toward his own before he started reeling in the line quickly. 

“Well, c’mon,” he said once he had reset his line, gesturing you come toward him. 

Curiously, you walked forward until you stood beside him, Arthur handing the fishing rod to you as he moved in order to have you standing where he was. Jack glanced toward you a moment as he did so, but otherwise seemed focused on his own fishing for the moment. 

“Now, like I showed Jack, just move this back,” Arthur said just a little over your shoulder, pushing the rod down a bit over your shoulder to prompt you to wind it back, “and swing it quickly forward.” 

You followed the instruction, swinging the rod forward and sent the line flying out toward the water, feeling Arthur press a hand against the back of your shoulder a moment once it landed. 

“Good, now we wait.” 

Honestly, you weren’t completely sure what you were doing, watching as the line bobbed lightly on the water. It seemed...well, anticlimactic, causing you to relax some from the tension in your shoulders. You stood there for a minute, reeling the line in somewhat as you waited for a tug. However, in that time, it appeared Jack’s patience with the activity had run out as he asked Arthur about doing something else. He quickly reeled in his line at his approval before wandering off toward some flowers on the bank. 

“Well, that was quick,” you commented under your breath, somewhat amused. 

“Eh, I don’t blame him,” Arthur said dismissively, moving to stand beside you as you continued to drag the line across the water slowly, “You’re takin’ to this like a duck to water, though.” 

“It’s not exactly complicated…” 

“Sure.” 

Your focus returned to the water after that upon feeling something move the pole before there was a sharp tug, causing you to jump slightly. 

“You got somethin’, hook ‘em!” 

“I…” You pulled the rod up, feeling the weight pull there sharply before the splashing started out at the end of your line. 

“Let him tire out first,” Arthur instructed, placing a hand near your wrist where you were reeling in the line, causing you to stop as the fish continued to thrash. 

You watched as it did so before calming some, letting you start to reel it in. Arthur removed his hold on your wrist as you did so, standing near by as the fish got pulled closer before trashing again. You kept trying to follow the pointers given to you over your shoulder, but eventually the fish was pulled out of the water. You removed it from the hook, Arthur looking it over a moment. 

“Bluegill, though a little small. Should probably toss him back…” 

Well, he was the teacher here. You tossed the fish back into the water, watching it swim off for a moment before you turned slightly to hold the fishing rod back out toward him. 

“You can catch more than one fish,” he commented around a soft chuckle, making you shrug. 

“It’s your rod and it’s your trip,” you said as he took it from you, “I’m fine with that, anyway.” 

“Well, I know what not to take you and Jack to do…” 

You offered him an almost apologetic smile as you turned to glance back toward where Jack was sitting, doing something with the flowers he had found, your eyes moving up toward where the horses were. You tilted your head. 

“What happened to your old horse? Boadicea?” 

“You remember _Boadicea?_ ” 

“Well...kinda, I don’t really remember what she looked like but I know she was your horse…” 

“She got hurt in that Blackwater mess, didn’t make it,” Arthur replied, sounding somewhat sad about it. He must have cared for that horse, you figured. “She was a great horse. Though, I’m surprised you remember her.” 

“I...well, something came up at Sean’s party and I’m remembering a little bit about it.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah, I saw you and Mary-Beth that night. Very sweet, by the way. I didn’t know you liked dancing.” 

“ _Eh_ , not really…” Arthur replied gruffly, shifting the fishing rod in his hands before shrugging his shoulders. “I’m not the best at it, all left feet.” 

_Well, for what I remember about that memory, I don’t think anybody was too concerned about that._

“Well, I…” you trailed off, letting out another somewhat nervous chuckle. _Why were you?_ Remembering him in some sort of romantic context was a good thing, considering. Yet, it was still somewhat awkward. “It started a memory of us doing so, though I don’t know. Did we ever dance?” 

You could leave the kiss out of it. 

“Yeah, but rarely,” he replied, “Though that’s good to know, I suppose.” 

“Yeah, I guess I’m still trying to piece things together. Might have to consider it luck that it was about you and not some random horse or object.” 

“Sure, though I…” he trailed off, dropping his gaze a moment as he pressed his mouth into a thin line, glancing out toward the water, “I got some things I need to talk to you ‘bout. Though...I don’t know how you’re gonna feel ‘bout any of ‘em.” 

“What’s happening?”

Arthur paused, glancing toward Jack for a moment before turning toward you again. “Later, ain’t no use weighin’ this down with all that right now.” 

“You sure like keeping me in suspense…” you muttered, but could understand his reasoning with Jack being there, you supposed. Though, if the kid couldn’t hear about it, you weren’t sure exactly how relaxed you should feel about that. Arthur returned to his fishing for a bit as you wandered toward Jack, causing him to glance up toward you as you offered him a small smile. It appeared he was linking some flowers together on a string or vine. 

“It’s for Mama,” he said, turning his attention back to his little project. 

“I’m sure she’ll love it.” 

* * *

The early morning sun shifted into something closer to the afternoon as Arthur continued to fish and Jack continued to work on whatever he was making for his mother. You had made some small conversation with Arthur as you settled near the bank for a bit, just enjoying the time out and getting to know him more. It was hard to find a relatively peaceful moment, the camp seemed calm but there was an underlying tension that you were in tune with occasionally. Still, you figured you should leave soon if you wanted to have time to see your family for a bit. 

Though, it appeared you weren’t the only one starting to notice time stretching on, Arthur stepping away from the river after he put another fish into his satchel. You rose from where you were sitting, watching a moment as Arthur approached Jack when he offered to show him the necklace he made.

However, your eyes were on two horses that rode toward where you all were from the trail, causing you to walk over toward Arthur and Jack a moment as the riders dismounted. They were dressed sharply, walking forward almost leisurely. You took in a breath to try to call attention to them, but the taller one beat you to it. 

“ _What a fine young man!_ ” he called out, causing Arthur to rise from where he had been crouched beside Jack, “And in such complex circumstances...Arthur, isn’t it? Arthur Morgan?”

“Who are you?” he asked, guarded.

“Yes, Arthur Morgan…” he continued, walking all the closer as his companion moved forward as well, shotgun in his hands. It set you on edge, keeping you rooted to the spot. “Van der Linde’s most trusted associate. You’ve read the files, typical case...orphaned street kid seduced by the maniac’s silver tongue and matures into a degenerate murderer…” 

Really, you couldn’t help the slight furrowing of your brow at his words. You knew they were a group of outlaws, but most of the people you talked too seemed to idolize Dutch. Even you could feel some sense of pull in yourself that kept you from just giving them all away. _Dutch, a maniac with a silver tongue. Arthur, a degenerate murderer._ It had your eyes narrowing somewhat, though you didn’t get much time to ponder on that too much when the man talking to Arthur turned his attention toward you. 

“All of you, out on a little outing…” 

“You still haven’t said who you are,” you stated, much as a part of you felt it would be better to keep your mouth shut. Though, what was said didn’t seem to affect him any. 

“Agent Milton. Agent Ross. Pinkerton Detective Agency, seconded to the United States Government,” he replied, glancing back toward Arthur, “Nice to finally meet. We know a lot about you.”

“Do you?” he asked. 

“You’re a _wanted man_ , Mr. Morgan. There’s five thousand dollars on your head alone.”

“Five thousand dollars? For _me?_ Can I turn myself in?”

“We want Van der Linde.”

“Ol’ Dutch? I haven’t seen him for months…”

“That so? Because I heard a guy fitting his description robbed a train belonging to a Leviticus Cornwall up near Granite Pass.”

You could almost feel the tension rising as they continued the back and forth. They were detectives, and they knew about the train. Momentarily, you were very aware of how unarmed you currently were. You kept your gun in it’s holster by your bedroll, mostly putting it on when you felt you needed it. Going fishing? It hadn’t even crossed your mind. Slowly, you started to shift, coming to stand a little closer to Arthur and Jack, who was hiding behind Arthur as he stood completely in front of him. 

Arthur let out a soft huff, sounding almost uncertain himself. “Ain’t that a little...old fashioned, nowadays?”

“Apparently not…” Milton returned, shifting another step closer, “Listen. This is my offer, Mr. Morgan. Bring in Van der Linde, and you have my word you won’t swing.”

“Oh, I ain’t gonna swing anyway, Agent, um…”

“Milton.”

“Ya see…” Arthur continued, “I haven’t done anything _wrong_ aside from not playin' the games to your _rules._ ”

“Spare me the philosophy lesson, I already heard it,” the agent replied, “From Mac Callander.” 

“ _Mac Callander?_ ” 

You knew Mac was one of the missing people, or the last of them considering Sean was back. Though the name seemed to pull some reaction from Arthur, your eyes on this Agent Milton as he seemed to continue with some cockiness, tilting his head. 

“He was pretty shot up by the time I got to him…” he continued, “So, really, it was more of a _mercy_ killing. Slow, but merciful.”

That really seemed to hit Arthur, your eyes shifting to him as he seemed to tense up, tossing his fishing rod onto the ground as he looked the other man in the eyes. You tried to move closer, but Agent Ross seemed to catch the movement, pulling your attention to him as he raised his weapon toward you. Not so much a threat, but a warning. Still, you shifted back on a foot, stopping in your movement to remain where you were. 

“You enjoy bein’ a _rich man’s toy_ , do ya?” Arthur snapped, his voice dropping in a tone that wasn’t all that familiar to you. There had been hints of it through frustration, but you hadn’t been around him to see him angry like this. 

“I enjoy _society_ , flaws and all,” Milton returned, almost echoing the anger in Arthur’s voice as he stepped closer, “You people venerate _savagery_ , and you will _die savagely._ All of you.”

“Oh, we’re all gonna die, agent…” Arthur said, watching as the other man stepped back somewhat. Not out of fear, but ending the conversation.   
  
“Some of us sooner than others. Good day, Mr. Morgan.”

“Goodbye,” Arthur returned flatly.  
  
“Enjoy your fishin’, kid,” Agent Ross said for the first time through the conversation, looking at Jack as he turned to return to his horse, “while you still can.”

You watched as they mounted their horses, Arthur not moving from his spot standing in front of Jack until they had taken off back down the road. Jack moved out from behind Arthur, pointing a hand toward them. 

“Who were they?”

“No one to worry about, no one at all,” Arthur replied, gathering up his things from on the ground, “C’mon, let’s pick up your things and get home.”

Now, there was an idea. You let out a small sigh, finally moving to head toward your horse. Arthur placed a hand against your shoulder, causing you to glance toward him. 

“You okay?”

“A little anxious and very confused, but sure,” you replied around a breath, nodding your head. 

“I’m gonna need to talk with Dutch,” Arthur replied, tucking Jack’s fishing rod onto his horse, “Just...we still need to talk, too. So, can you just stay in camp? I’ll come find you.” 

“Yeah, sure,” you said with a nod. Considering what just happened, perhaps riding off on your own anywhere seemed like a bad idea. 

“Thank you,” Arthur returned, getting onto his horse before lifting Jack into his saddle. 

You wandered back over toward your horse, getting up into the saddle before following out after him and Jack. Couldn’t have a peaceful moment, it seemed. Nothing was really doing anything to keep the twisting from your gut. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note that this story didn't jump to the front page the last time I updated, so if things seem like they are in the middle of something, they are. I would go back to read the previous chapter if you haven't. lol
> 
> Anyway, thank you all for the feedback and kudos! I hope you all enjoy!

Your gut was twisting in knots by the time you, Arthur, and Jack had made it back to camp. **  
**

It had been a short ride, something you could have walked if need be. However, with the weight of those men and Arthur’s vague mentioning of needing to talk to you, it didn’t feel like whatever he had to tell you was good news. Still, much as you admittedly wanted to duck out of camp and avoid the uncomfortable feelings, you remained true to your word and lingered about in camp. Arthur left Jack with Abigail after mentioning that he needed to talk with Dutch about the men who had confronted you all at the river bank.

They had called themselves Pinkertons, and considering there was the talk of bounties…

Really, it shouldn’t have been much of a surprise to you. Dutch had said up in the mountains that they were trying to survive something, and you had overheard a number of times about the issues with Blackwater. Combined with the secrecy and even Dutch’s paranoia toward your own activities with how your memory of them currently was, it wasn’t hard to gather that they were on the run from something. No, you weren’t surprised about that. It was more about what this meant. 

Also, they had seen you with Arthur. You couldn’t very well go wandering around without some paranoia, now. 

You watched on somewhat as Arthur and Dutch talked in his tent, though you couldn’t hear what was being said. Arthur seemed as tense as he did down at the river, but Dutch seemed somewhat less so. Still, there appeared to be some concern--how could there not be? Still, you found yourself taking a step back with a slow exhale before turning and wandering back toward your bedroll. There were a number of assumptions and conclusions your mind tried to jump to--some about the current situation, some about you staying with the gang, some being more personal about your relationship with Arthur. All of them left confusing feelings in their wake, putting a bit of distance behind your gaze as you stared off into the woods that surrounded the camp. 

They had seemed safe enough before, but now? Well...they had to ask where Dutch was. If they knew, you figured there wouldn’t be a point in confronting as they did. 

“Hey.”

The greeting caused you to jump slightly, your heart racing as you turned to cast Arthur a somewhat wide-eyed look. He raised his hands slightly at the alarm in your expression, causing you to let out a small breath as you nodded back, not quite finding your voice just yet. 

“C’mon,” Arthur continued, tilting his head toward the treeline somewhat, “Figure you might like less a chance of us havin’ an audience.” 

“Sure…” 

You stood and followed out after him into the trees. You could feel the cool air of the evening starting to settle, you and Arthur stepping toward the outskirts of camp but not too far. That was probably for the best, you figured, much as you knew you likely preferred not having to worry about curious ears and eyes. Though, you still didn’t really know what he had to talk about. It wasn’t just about the Pinkertons, but…

“So, what happened?” you asked, tilting your head, “With Dutch and those agents?”

“He’s still waitin’ on more of a solid reason to leave,” Arthur replied, sounding like he disapproved of that notion. If that were true, you couldn’t exactly blame him. You were anxious about them, too. “Says that it’s a good thing they don’t know where we are, wants to keep his eye on it.” 

“Is that a good idea?”

“I dunno,” Arthur replied with a light shrug of his shoulders, “Only one we got. Still gotta get Micah outta that jail in Strawberry and…” 

You shifted to stand beside him a moment as Arthur let out a breath, bowing his head as he crossed his arms, obscuring his eyes from view under the brim of his hat. This really was a bit of a contrast from the man down at the river who had been trying to teach you and Jack how to fish, that terrible twisting in your stomach still persisting. 

However, despite yourself, your hand reached out and squeezed his shoulder, causing him to glance up toward you for a moment. Catching the movement, you let it drop back to your side as you let out a small sigh of your own. 

“Christ, everythin’s just been pilin’ on today,” Arthur remarked as you moved to lean yourself against a tree opposite of him, “Can’t really do much about them Pinkertons without Dutch’s word, but everythin’ else…”

“Best to just get it out, I suppose,” you offered, watching him carefully. 

“There’s no way to bring ‘em up without upsettin’ you, but…” 

“The way you’ve been reminding me of them hadn’t had me believing it was _good news_ , Arthur.” Despite the words that left you, you knew there was still a part of you that was hoping it wasn’t as bad as your head was making it out to be.

Really, you had no idea just what he had to say, but it was vague enough to plant a seed in your mind and it had been growing in a number of different ways today. 

“I...got a letter recently,” Arthur said after a moment, glancing up from where he was staring holes into the ground, “I never told you about Mary, my ex-fiancee. It’s a...long story, but it didn’t work out. We was...too different or...I dunno. She wrote me recently because she’s been stayin’ in Valentine and heard of me in town, wanted my help with her brother.” 

You listened as he talked, your expression rather even as you tried to sort that out in your head. Really, you weren’t too sure how to feel about that. You knew it would have been different, the news would have hit you differently if you had your memories still intact. Hell, even then you weren’t too sure how strongly you would have reacted. Arthur had said the two of you had only been together a couple of months at that point, but...well, you knew there was something. The memory of kissing him didn’t feel like it was empty, the lingering effects of it pulling harder at that feeling in your chest ever since you had remembered it. 

Though, regardless of that, you wouldn’t have known about her anyway. Arthur said he never told you about her. 

Yet, from how he carried that news around with him, you could tell he cares for her. _Cared for her?_ You weren’t too sure, a following question related to that thought lingering on your tongue, but you bit it back. 

“Did you go see her?” 

“...Yeah,” he replied with a small nod, “It didn’t...feel right, leavin’ her to sort out her brother on her own. Not after all we had. Just...whole thing left me more confused than certain ‘bout anythin’. Didn’t feel right leavin’ her on her own with what was happenin’, didn’t feel right doin’ all that while everythin’ was happenin’ with _you_ …It weren’t fair, and I--” 

“Arthur, I’m not mad,” you stated around a soft exhale, “You were willing to let me _leave the gang_ if I was allowed, even when you still remember everything about us. I can’t be angry, I don’t know enough about it.” 

There was a twinge, though. Still...well, you couldn’t blame him for looking into that when…

“I guess I do have to ask,” you continued, furrowing your brow, “Is that gonna change what we agreed to do? Starting over? I didn’t feel anything was different at the river before all that happened, but...I mean, I don’t want to be the one to hold you back if you want to--” 

“I don’t think there’s anythin’ for me to be goin’ after,” Arthur interrupted, shaking his head, “I helped her brother and it just...I dunno, might have seemed like she wanted somethin’ but decided against it. I can’t speak for her. It just confuses the hell outta me.” 

“I don’t blame you…” 

“Though, no, I’m not lookin’ to stop...whatever this is, now,” Arthur continued, “If that’s still what you want, knowin’ that.” 

“Were you-- _shit_ ,” you paused, letting out a breath as you bowed your head, “I hate to ask, but were you hoping for anything from that? Again, I...I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about all of this, but I don’t want to hold you back if you’re…” 

There was a pause that followed, causing you to glance up as Arthur met your gaze for a moment. The conflict and his lack of a direct answer was starting to speak clearer than anything as the moment went by, a confusing part of you feeling something tightening in your throat as you swallowed. Were you scared? Really, you weren’t too sure, but you knew you weren’t feeling confident in where you stood with him. 

You hadn’t since you had woken up in the snow. 

“I dunno _what_ I was hopin’ for,” Arthur replied, his voice barely above a mutter, “Part of me...part of me still wants what we have, or what we _had_ , but...the whole thing confuses me. Mary’s always confused me, leavin’ me feelin’ all sorts of ways.” 

“I still...I still want to see where this goes, but I can’t if it feels like I’m...some sort of option to pick because you can’t get what you actually want.” 

“It was never like that,” Arthur stated, “I started courtin’ you because I wanted to see where that would go. That this whole thing was in the past, and gettin’ this letter on top of...well, what happened with you, I just...I loved her. Maybe there’s a part of me that always will, but...I’d wanted to make room for you to see if there was a chance I could leave that behind.” 

“...I don’t really know what to say to that,” you replied around a sigh, the breath releasing some tension from your chest, “I still want to try. I just...the moment that changes for you, I _need_ to know because I don’t think I can handle…” 

“I will,” Arthur said with a soft nod, pausing a moment before he bowed his head, “Though if this is how you’re gonna react to that, I have no idea if you’re gonna think the same when I tell you what I have to say next.” 

_What would be worse than that?_ Well, a few things, but with how the whole ordeal seemed to weigh on him, his statement had your brows furrowing further as you waited for him to continue. Arthur raised his head up again, letting out a small sigh. 

“As I talked to you a couple times ‘bout, Strauss’ got me collectin’ his debts.” 

That...wasn’t new. You nodded lightly. You knew he had mentioned a couple of times how he hated the work Strauss had him doing, but would do it at Dutch’s word and for the needs of camp. Whatever it was that he had to do, it didn’t sound like it was anything pleasant. Really, considering the context of money being owed, it hadn’t taken you long to piece together on what may be involved in collecting those standing debts. 

“He approached me with one after Sean’s party,” Arthur continued, “He asked me to collect a debt from your uncle.” 

That had your back straightening, pushing off the tree you were leaning against somewhat as you stood in front of it fully. 

“My uncle? They don’t have anything…” you paused, narrowing your eyes, “ _Did you go collect it?_ ”

“ _No._ He asked me to. Knowin’ you have some relation to ‘em, I couldn’t do it without talkin’ to you first, much as how I handled the whole Mary situation.” 

_Oh, thank god._

“Is Strauss still in camp? He’s...he’s the older man by the medicine wagon, right?”

“Yeah, but…” Arthur started, straightening up somewhat in return as you took a glance toward camp before moving forward quickly to pass by his tree. You paused at the feeling of him catching your arm, forcing you to turn around to face him somewhat. 

“ _Arthur_ \--” 

“You go marchin’ in there and cause a scene in front of camp, how’s that gonna look?” 

“Dutch doesn’t trust me already, what’s the point?” you snapped, not quite feeling like you were thinking clearly. You had no idea how to process the Mary situation, now this? Well, at least you could do something about this.

“ _What?_ ” 

You pulled your arm from his grasp, picking up your strides as you walked back into camp. The sound of Arthur trying to get your attention filtered in one ear and out the other, though you knew he was likely only a couple steps behind you as you moved beyond Pearson’s wagon toward the man sitting at a table, book open. 

“Strauss?” you called, causing the man to glance up and cast you a confused glance. 

“Ah, Miss--” 

“Are you looking to collect a debt from Thomas Downes?” you demanded, coming to stand in front of his table. 

“Well, yes, but how did you…?”

“What would it take for you to drop it?” you asked, gritting your teeth somewhat at the light scoff that escaped Strauss as he leaned back in his chair. 

“Well, the debt being repaid, preferably,” he replied, taking a glance over your shoulder, “In fact, I had sent Mr. Morgan to do so, but I suppose he hasn’t gotten around to it just yet.” 

“Forget that,” you stated, stepping a little closer to the table, “Let me pay it back.” 

“With what money?” he asked, tilting his head, “Don’t think I don’t notice how you make none and any you do have come from camp pockets for supplies.” 

“Yes, the whole $3 I spent on medicine to tend to my injury,” you returned, your tone tight, “How much is the debt?”

“A hundred dollars, surely nothing you have on hand to pay back,” Strauss replied, “Frankly, I think you are sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong and--” 

“It’s my business when it involves my _family_ ,” you stated, “You act like I am unwilling to work to pay back their debt.” 

“What is goin’ on here?”

The familiar voice from behind you washed some dread over you, making you turn back around as Dutch stepped in beside where Arthur was standing. While Arthur hadn’t said anything throughout the exchange, it wasn’t hard to miss the tight expression that sat in his features, but Dutch looked more stern and confused than tense. 

“She believes she can stick her hands in my business,” Strauss stated, “Wants to pay back a debt.” 

“I don’t see an issue with that,” you replied, glancing back toward him before meeting Dutch’s gaze, “He was going to send Arthur to collect a debt from my family, the one I told you I found in Valentine. Don’t think I don’t know what that entails.” 

“How are you plannin’ on paying back this debt?” Dutch asked, causing you to give a frustrated shrug. 

“I don’t know yet,” you replied, letting your hands come back down to your sides with a slap, “I...Well, let me go in place of Arthur right now.”

“ _You’re_ going to get them to pay back the money they aren’t otherwise?” Strauss asked from behind you, causing you to glance back toward him. 

“They know me, I’m family. I can do something other than kick someone around.” 

“If you’re so convinced…” Dutch started, casting a look at Arthur as he shrugged, almost exasperated. 

“I weren’t exactly _lookin’ forward_ to it,” he replied, “It’s just...ain’t there another way? I mean, we really need that debt from them folk?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Arthur, we’re in a _dire_ situation,” Dutch returned, his tone tight. “We _need_ money, so…” 

He paused, glancing back toward you as you crossed your arms. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you met his gaze. The conversation you had with Dutch a couple days ago hadn’t left you, you knew there was some distrust there over your situation, but if you could get money back to camp it could help with that as well. Really, you just didn’t want your ill uncle getting knocked around by the man who you had just been talking about seeing romantically. 

“If you have a plan to get that debt from them, then I wouldn’t be against you taking that task off Arthur’s shoulders.” 

“Thank you,” you replied, catching a tight look from Strauss but otherwise the gang leader nodded his head lightly. 

“We need that money, sooner rather than later,” Dutch stated, “So, I would suggest getting that underway soon.” 

“I’ll go tonight, Dutch,” you replied, earning another nod from him before he turned away. With a sigh, you turned and pushed passed Arthur to make your way toward the horses. 

Many thoughts and feelings circled in your head as you did so. There was all that happened that day with Jack and the Pinkertons, what Arthur had told you, and know this. You just hoped...well, you knew you couldn’t hope for forgiveness when you went to go ask them to pay as much as they could from the debt. You weren’t so oblivious to think this wouldn’t be more of a betrayal to them than having Arthur, a complete stranger, show up. Still, you knew at least you wouldn’t have to have to deal with the fact that Arthur had beat them up for this money. 

Also...well, you knew you wouldn’t have been able to deal with Arthur doing that without telling you. In a way, you were appreciative that he hadn’t done so, but...Christ. 

However, you were pulled from your thoughts as a firm hand gripped at your arm again as you were going to climb into the saddle of the horse from earlier that day.

“-- _Slow down_ ,” Arthur stated, pulling your mind back from the racing it had been doing, “I’m goin’ with you.” 

“No, you’re not,” you snapped, pulling your arm from his grasp, “ _Last thing_ I need right now is _you_ , so, please. Let me go.” 

Arthur’s expression tightened, something that shifted a pit of regret and guilt right into your stomach, but at the moment you just needed to leave. To get this done before minds were changed and you couldn’t do anything about it. You climbed up onto the horse, Arthur stepping up beside your saddle. 

“We got Pinkertons watchin’ this area, they saw you--” 

“ _You’re_ gonna be able to wander free,” you pointed out, a bite to your tone. 

“I can defend myself, and you never know--” 

“--My uncle can barely get a sentence out without coughing his lungs out, he’s not going to hurt me and I’m not planning on beating him up for money,” you spat, “Just let me go.” 

Arthur looked like he was going to say something, but he had stepped back and you took the opportunity as you squeezed your legs around the sides of your horse. You could hear Arthur call your name, but you took off down toward the edge of camp, your heart beating wildly in your chest. You knew you were being reckless and hadn’t thought this through completely, but it was the better choice at the moment. 

It _had_ to be.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next part! I really struggled with the ending to this chapter but hopefully it's alright. Thank you all for the feedback and support this work has been getting!

You were starting to realize how much you hadn’t been thinking about how to handle this.

Even more so, you knew there was no way this would go over well. Really, you felt like you had just met the Downes and now you were going to turn up as the debt collector for some poor family. There was no nice way to spin it, it would probably hurt more to hear it from family, but you knew you were willing to take that over standing by while someone like Arthur did so. There was still that damn touch of guilt you felt when you thought about him, the way he looked when you talked to him back at camp before you left.

Yet...well, you couldn’t exactly deny how he usually handled these debts. Arthur hadn’t told you outright the details, but you had been able to gather enough to understand what was involved. Strauss was smart, slimy (as Arthur had spat one evening), and could wave money in front of people who had no hopes of paying off his loans, and when he (inevitably) didn’t get the money owed, it was Arthur who went in his place as Strauss’ force and muscle. It seemed like that had been how it was for quite some time, given how familiar Arthur was, and how Dutch kept talking him into it for the sake of funds.

This time, though?

Well, you looked rough, and Edith and Thomas knew you were injured and had issues with your memory. You weren’t some intimidating stranger, and perhaps the leverage you had as family would…

You could feel your stomach twist somewhat as you thought about it in that way. You were an outlaw, running with a group of outlaws, yet in the moment you felt like you were far from it. The anger that had boiled up in your gut over the situation had simmered down into heavy dread and guilt for something you were about to do.

It was a shame that the ride from camp to the Downes Ranch was such a short one.

Steering your horse up the steep incline, you managed to get up onto the cliff side and rode down toward the trail leading out toward the ranch. Really, you felt like turning back, demanding to find some other way to settle this, but you knew where Strauss stood. What you had agreed to do, had told Dutch you would do so to his face. So, you let out a slow breath as you steered your horse down the path at the top of the cliff before turning off toward the ranch. It was upon seeing the familiar figure of your uncle working in their meager garden that you had no idea how you were to approach this.

Should you lie? You knew you would have to spin a really good one to explain how you knew about the loan he took. They had only known you for a couple days.

Still, you knew you were approaching the point of no return when your uncle lifted his head, leaning against the handle of his rake as you rode up.

“I didn’t know you were comin’ by today,” he commented after you had dismounted, approaching the gate with your heart in your throat.

“Yeah...it’s good I caught you, I have something real important to talk about.”

You rested your hands against the gate in front of you, watching as Thomas set aside his tool and wandered over, your fingers tightening against the wood under your hands. This was all becoming so much, but you knew it would be best that you dealt with this issue instead of...whatever outcome it would have gotten with Arthur.

“Are you alright?”

“Sure, I…” you started, letting out a sigh as you dropped your hands back against your side. “I don’t know how to start saying this, so I just will. I know that you took out a loan, that the pay’s come due…”

“How…?”

“I don’t really know how to explain it fully, but...I know. I just...I need you to give me some sort of payment or--”

“Well...you think I would be in debt still if I had the means to pay it off?” Thomas asked, causing you to clench your jaw somewhat.

It wasn’t over frustration aimed at him, or what he had been trying to do. You had no idea what he was doing with that money, but judging from his state and the state of his family, you figured it wasn’t just for extra. Still, you weren’t sure how badly things would go if you left there empty handed, especially after what happened at camp that got you on their property. It was just a question on what they could give in the meantime and getting them to see your logic, yet…

Well, it wasn’t going to go over well in the long run.

“I know, but--”

“What’s happening out here?”

Edith’s voice broke you from the thought leaving your mouth, your eyebrows raising somewhat as she came walking up toward the two of you. Lifting your gaze a moment, you could see Archie back at the house. Guess this was going to be a family affair. Despite the moment, Edith didn’t seem too upset, more curious about your arrival, though her expression seemed to fall somewhat as she took in the moment as Thomas coughed lightly into his arm.

It was a retched sound, wet and alarming, which put a terrible twist to your gut.

“I…” you let out a small exhale as you turned toward her, “I know about the loan Thomas took, and I’m...well, I’m hoping to help.”

“I don’t know how you even know about that, or how you’re going to help with that,” Edith said, pausing a few steps from you as she crossed her arms, casting her husband a somewhat concerned look. “We don’t have the means to pay that back. We’d been hoping that we would with how we invested the loan, but…”

“I know the person you got the money from, the people he works for,” you stated, deciding to just approach it as directly as you could. You could already feel the conversation circling. “I just...I need _something_ from you for that loan and I will take on the rest myself.”

“You know them?” she asked, her tone tight, “You’re...you’re here to _collect?_ Did you even try to get them to let it go?”

“ _I did_ ,” you insisted, “Believe me, I tried, but that situation is complicated too.”

“More complicated than ours?” she challenged, causing you to fight back the retort that wasn’t being helped with the pre-existing stress of the day.

“If I come back empty handed, I don’t know how this will play out. Though, if you just give me something, I will pay off the rest of it myself and there won’t be anybody turning up here that you don’t know.”

“You promise that?” Thomas asked, the question putting a weight in your gut. You had no idea if you could, nor did you think you had enough influence to make that a certainty.

“I can’t,” you replied, biting at the inside of your lip somewhat, “That’s my hope and I’ll do what I can to make it happen, but…”

“I can’t believe this…” Edith muttered, shaking her head.

There was a pause as you awaited an answer, your throat tight as you clenched your jaw somewhat. You still weren’t too sure why you weren’t allowed to take on the full debt. Perhaps there was the idea that they did have the money for it and were holding out on repaying it for one reason or another, but standing before them you knew that likely wasn’t the case. There was a good pit of anger that sat in your gut--though, you weren’t too sure who it was aimed at. Arthur? Strauss? Dutch? Who knew, but in the moment you just wanted to resolve the moment so badly so you could leave.

Perhaps that was selfish, but...well, you were telling the truth about leaving empty handed. If they had nothing, then they had nothing, but you had no idea where to take that. How that news would be handled back in camp.

“...We have some money,” Thomas stated, meeting Edith’s gaze.

“It’s barely anything,” she replied, you could almost feel the anger that she was barely holding back, “Not enough to really make sure we can survive here.”

“I don’t need all of it,” you stated, meeting her gaze. _Believe me, I wouldn’t be taking any of it if I had my way._

“When you had turned up here…” Edith said, lowering her gaze as she dug around in her apron for a moment, “I had been thinking you had managed to get away from what your father had been setting you up for, but I should have known…”

You stood there a moment, mouth parted somewhat as you tried to gather words. However, most of them died on your tongue. Really, you had no idea if you really had strayed from that life, though the company you kept seemed to say that you hadn’t. You watched as Edith pulled out a couple bills, tossing them onto the dirt between you.

“Make true on what you’re saying and don’t come back here,” she stated, breaking you from your thoughts before you bent down to gather the money.

You didn’t need to be told twice, not able to cast either of them a parting look before you mounted back up on your horse and rode out of there. You could feel some of the shaking in your hands as you tried to steer the horse off toward camp, your heart beating hard in your chest.

There really was only one place you had left, now.

* * *

You didn’t make it back to camp.

Going back was inevitable, you knew that, but you couldn’t bring yourself to head back there just yet. You knew it was foolish, considering the Pinkertons so close by, but your mind was moving a mile a minute. It felt like you were going over the events of that evening again and again, wondering if you had said the right thing, yet there was no way you could have done so unless it was to tell them they didn’t have to worry about it. Yet, returning back to camp with the pocket change you had been given, despite telling them they had nothing, it wasn’t something you wanted to deal with.

So, you found yourself stopping to sit against a rock, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes. It produced a small, familiar, ache for a few moments, but it subsided once you lowered them again. You felt something slip down the side of your face, your hand moving up to grip the fabric of the bandage that had come loose. With a huff, you ripped it off and tossed it off to the side.

Damn injury was mostly healed anyway.

Didn’t do a damn thing for your memories, however. Really, you had no idea who you were supposed to be. An outlaw, a lover, a daughter, a niece. You had no damn clue anymore. Though, you might as well scratch off niece and the idea of having familiar faces should you decide this life wasn’t for you. Though, considering everything, maybe it was. It’s all you had, anyway. The gang knew you, too, but...well, if you had your memories, would this whole thing have gone differently? Dutch wanted your loyalty to his gang, much as he didn’t outright state it. You knew that was the case, but…

“Damn it…” you muttered, pressing a hand to your mouth in thought as you watched the trees and the trail ahead of you.

The sound of approaching hoof beats and the sound of another horse had you lifting your head, turning to glance behind yourself to see the rider approach. It took only a moment for you to see who it was, making you shut your eyes and let out a slow breath as you turned to face forward again. You knew you could feel some of the anger ebbing out as you tried to look ahead to what you were supposed to do, now, but it wasn’t completely gone.

“You following me?” you asked, failing to keep some of the tension from your tone.

“Hosea saw you ride off after everythin’, said I should follow after,” Arthur replied as you heard him get off his horse and approach where you were sitting. “Considerin’ what you was off to do, figured I should.”

“I don’t think I’m going to get much comfort from that,” you replied, pressing your hands against your mouth a moment.

Much as you knew there was some anger there, you couldn’t find a solid reason to pin it completely on Arthur that wasn’t rebutteled in your mind. He had tried to get Strauss and Dutch to drop the debt, much as he didn’t bend over backwards for it. He’d tried to talk to you before he went ahead and collected on it. Yet...well, there wouldn’t be that whole mess if there had been an attempt to step up against the business as a whole.

For all Dutch preached, what you had been told about his morals for the gang…

Maybe that wasn’t wholly Arthur’s fault, but he still took part.

He had also told you about it, and you had stood aside until it directly affected you.

_Damn it._

“Take it you did what you took off to do,” he said after a few moments, coming to stand beside you but you couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him just yet.

“Yeah, I have a little to give to prove I did so,” you replied, letting out a sigh, “Though Strauss' little business has removed _all_ options for a good relationship with what remains of my family.”

“I...I’m sorry. Wish I could’ve...I don’t know. Never liked the debtin’, it’s opposite to what Dutch’s got us standin’ for, but it’s good money for camp.”

“What you all lost in Blackwater, is this really worth it?” you asked, glancing up to meet Arthur’s gaze. His expression was tight, though it was hard not to notice the concern there.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, glancing away, “Feel like...we’ve been tryin’ to find the money to get out of this whole thing. Dutch thought it was some land out west, but that didn’t turn out right. With that ferry job goin’ sideways, we’re out here with little money, so things like that...well, I’m not surprised Dutch’s still leanin’ on Strauss’ lendin’.”

“You’re all really trying to get out?” you asked, furrowing your brow.

“I don’t know,” Arthur admitted after a moment, “With how big we are right now? It’ll be hard without bein’ sittin’ ducks for whoever’s got ideas ‘bout the price on our heads.”

“I’m starting to see that,” you muttered, thinking back to those agents at the river. “I don’t know who I should be angry at about all of this.”

“Might as well be me,” Arthur said around a small sigh, moving around to sit himself down beside you, “We’re all close in camp, we take care of our own, but I can’t lie and say I’m a good man. If Dutch wants somethin’ done, I’m usually the one to do it.”

“I...I guess I can see that,” you said, “I barely see you as it is.”

Arthur let out a small sound in agreement, your gaze dropping to take in the detail of the toe of one of his boots next to your own. You weren’t too sure how to feel about everything. There was a part of you that still had to process everything he had told you about Mary, something you had barely turned over in your head since he had told you about that. Now, there was all of this. Yet, you couldn’t link things together with any sort of experience you had previously with him. There was the kiss, how he interacted with people in camp, with Jack when he had invited you along for fishing.

There was also the outlaw. You couldn’t remember a time you had ran with him before, if you had seen that in action. If you had formed some opinion there, but…

Well, would that even _matter_ in the moment?

“I don’t know who I am, Arthur,” you admitted, your voice almost sounding unfamiliar in your ears.

There had been a weight pressing down since you had woken up in those mountains, and an endless amount of questions. What happened to you on the mountain specifically, what happened to the family you remembered, what you were supposed to do about the relationships you had with Arthur and the gang. It mixed terribly with the guilt in your gut, the anger toward your situation and this new outcome.

“You’re...you’re still you,” he replied, pulling you from your spiral for a moment. “You’re different, too, but guess what happened in camp reminded me of how I know you.”

“Wish _I_ knew who that was,” you said, shaking your head, “I’m so damn confused all the time, but...well, I guess that’s a little comforting to hear.”

“I-I really am sorry for everythin’ that’s happened,” Arthur said after he seemed to let your words hang in the air for a few moments, “I know what happened today might not be forgivable, but I am.”

“...I appreciate you telling me about all of that,” you replied after a moment, “I don’t know how to feel about everything, but...I appreciate that.”

“Sure…”

You could feel that tightness in your gut, your chest. The emotion sitting there, painful and frustrating. Yet, you weren’t too sure why, but you found yourself leaning sideways to slip an arm around his torso, resting your head against the leather of his jacket against his chest. The way Arthur seemed to tense up at you doing so wasn’t hard to miss, almost making you pull back but the action was stopped as you felt him slip an arm behind your shoulders, pressing you to him lightly.

Much as a part of you knew you were angry, confused, but there was a comfort there that lingered from somewhere deep. In the moment, with everything happening, you couldn’t help but want to seek that comfort, as small as it was. It pushed a light stinging behind your nose and eyes forward, but the tears didn’t come as you sat in his embrace.

It wasn’t a long one, but it was enough to slow your mind for a moment. You knew everything felt off, strange, but a part of you had been seeking that out with the things you had been recalling. Still, you parted from him easily enough when you felt his arms loosen around you, Arthur gathering himself to a stand.

“C’mon, we need to get back to camp. Ain’t safe to be sittin’ around here.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not 100% on this chapter. Might be me just coming back from writer’s block or something, but yeah. However, I managed to work it out and just want to stop struggling over it. I hope you all enjoy! I’m sorry for the wait.

“Your forehead’s lookin’ better.” **  
**

You let out a soft grunt as you pulled the bucket out of the stream, taking a moment to glance back toward the person walking up behind you. Mary-Beth offered you a small smile as you turned around, holding the heavy bucket at your side. You had seen her around camp, the odd passing comment or conversation--at least, that’s what it was currently. Mary-Beth reached out to help with the bucket as you came closer toward her, a small chuckle escaping you. 

“You say I’m looking better, but you won’t let me carry a bucket of water back to camp?” you asked, playful mostly. You still caught that touch of sympathy in her eye from time to time, but thankfully that had been stepping off more and more as time went along. 

“It’s a long walk back up there, plus if it looks like we’re helpin’ each other, it might keep Grimshaw off my back.” 

“Oh, I already got a bit of an earful from her today,” you replied, allowing the extra hand and you and Mary-Beth started to walk back toward camp. 

It had only been a couple days since that whole thing with Edith had happened, the thoughts weighing on you somewhat. Ran over that conversation in your head a couple times, what happened after. There had been the question of if you should have taken comfort from Arthur after that, if the lax in anger toward him as the days passed was right. It had just been a hug, but...well, even that seemed complicated with the almost one-sided past you had with him at that point. 

Everything had made you a little distant, even if you didn’t disappear from view completely as Grimshaw’s words earlier that morning were anything to go by. As stern as she was, you didn’t mind having a task to keep yourself from a spiral. 

Arthur had left as you had expected him to, apparently to go rescue that Micah from jail. He hadn’t seemed too thrilled about it, but you took some relief in not seeing him around for a bit while you had mulled things over. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Mary-Beth asked, pulling you out of your thoughts as you turned your head toward her, eyebrow raised. “I know...I know you might not remember me much, so you don’t have to answer, but...how’re things between you and Arthur?”

_Can you read minds, Mary-Beth?_ You couldn’t help the small touch of a grin that pulled at your lips, adjusting your grip on the bucket as you continued to walk. 

“They’re...what they are, I suppose. It’s hard to explain,” you replied after a beat, the smile in your expression falling somewhat. 

“I can only imagine…” Mary-Beth replied with a small nod, her tone sympathetic but she seemed to raise her head in thought somewhat. “Maybe...well, nobody likes you gettin’ hurt, but maybe it’s a good thing…” 

“I don’t know if losing memories of whole people is a good thing,” you replied, glancing at her out of the corner of your eye. 

“Well, no! No, of course not, but...well, _startin’ over?_ Gettin’ to know each other all over again? _Fallin’_ for someone again? It even seems a little romantic, and I’m sure there are people out there who’d love to have that chance again.” 

You tilted your head somewhat in thought. Mary-Beth was someone you liked, she seemed friendly and optimistic, though you had been warned she was a bit of a dreamer and a romantic at heart, which you could certainly see now. However, the situation you found yourself in? Well…

“None of this seems all that _romantic_ , to be honest,” you returned, “I just...I have no idea where Arthur’s head is in this. If I’m being honest, there’s a part of me that’s waiting for him to give up the chase and…”

“Is that what you want?” she asked, causing you to pause a moment as you approached some of the trees surrounding camp. 

“I’m not sure,” you admitted, letting out a sigh as you lowered the bucket to the ground, “I do remember some things about him that back up the fact that this isn’t just some...elaborate ploy, but...I don’t want to hold him back.” 

“Hold him back?” Mary-Beth asked, tilting her head as a small pit formed in your stomach. 

_Ah, shit._ You weren’t sure if you were supposed to tell anybody about all of that. Though, Mary-Beth watched on with a steadily growing expression of concern. You let out a small sigh through your nose, bowing your head slightly as you pressed your lips together slightly. Much as you still weren’t familiar with a number of the people in camp still, much as they knew you, you couldn’t help but feel that Mary-Beth might be a good person to talk to. 

Really, you had been dying to talk to someone about this that wasn’t Arthur. Everything with your aunt and uncle was one thing, but with his ex-fiancee? 

“I have some sympathy for his situation when it comes to what’s happened to me,” you started, “Much as he’s made it clear that he doesn’t want me to stay out of some guilt or pity for him. I just...I look at what’s going on with me and can’t help but wonder. It’s hard to really only have one side of the story, and I can’t just tell him to let it go. We agreed to start over, and I do want that, but...I don’t know, it’s complicated.” 

“He was real scared when you turned back up in camp, you know,” Mary-Beth replied, “Almost a frozen corpse, I think most of us were too. Arthur tried not to show it, but I could see it. I don’t know what you’d be holdin’ him back from, he seemed pretty relieved to see you gettin’ better.” 

“...He told me about going to see Mary,” you said, watching for recognition in Mary-Beth’s expression before continuing, “I suppose I’m still thinking that through.” 

Arthur hadn’t exactly given you much choice with how quickly it had shifted onto the topic of that debt taken by your uncle, and the mess that followed. 

“I had heard about that,” Mary-Beth said, “At least, that a letter had shown up. I was concerned but I didn’t wanna pry…” 

“As far as my understanding goes, nothing came of it but...well, he’d gotten real quiet when I asked him if he had wanted something to.”

“Mary’s a complicated situation,” Mary-Beth replied, “I’m sure it’s somethin’ he’s tryin’ to sort out, too. You might just have to talk to him about it again.” 

You let out a small, somewhat bitter, chuckle. “I really don’t want to keep digging that up for him.” 

“Well, it’s still obviously botherin’ you,” Mary-Beth pointed out, shifting to pick up the bucket that had been left in favor of the conversation, “You still have time, you two can figure this out.” 

Deciding to let that be the end of it for now, you reached down to pick up the other side of the handle before the two of you started to walk toward camp again. It was probably for the best. Being found standing around and talking, no matter the conversation topic, you could only imagine would get some sort of lecture from certain people in camp. 

“I’m sorry for dumping all of that on you,” you said quickly, glancing over a moment as you saw Mary-Beth offer you a small smile. 

“I asked, and I was also worried.”

“Were we...were we ever close before I got injured?” you asked, glancing toward her out of the corner of your eye. It was a bit of a sheepish question, and you figured it would be for a while still. If not always. It was awkward to ask what type of relationship you had with someone when you should have very well known it. 

“Not really close,” Mary-Beth replied, “We were friendly but...well, I guess if you’re startin’ over, it’s in more than just one place right?”

“That’s for sure,” you muttered, pulling a soft chuckle from the two of you. 

“Then we can sort that out, too.” 

* * *

Arthur returned from Strawberry a couple days later. Distant, frustrated, and lacking Micah riding in behind him, you could only assume things hadn’t gone exactly to plan. The talk with Mary-Beth and what she had mentioned about that mining town in the mountains had you only adding that to the things you had to turn over in your head. There was also that odd relief upon seeing him back in camp, too, much as you tried to keep your distance upon seeing the demeanor he returned with. 

You hadn’t been blind, you knew he wasn’t looking forward to it. 

So, initially, you had let him be when you saw him disappear toward the cliffedge with a bottle of whiskey. Yet, your concern did grow rather quickly after that point. You hadn’t been a stranger to Arthur checking up on you, so you felt that perhaps you should return the favor. So, you set your empty stew bowl aside and wandered out after a few minutes. Really, you couldn’t help but feel like you might be the last person he wanted to see, but--well, perhaps that was that voice you had told Mary-Beth about. 

Though, you weren’t surprised to see him sitting behind a rock and nursing the bottle he had taken. Arthur raised his head slightly upon your approach, raising his eyebrows slightly as you stepped out toward him. 

“Somethin’ goin’ on?” he asked, his voice lacking the slurred words you were sure to come soon if he kept as he was. 

“No, just...wanted to see if you were okay,” you said, tilting your head as Arthur let out a somewhat bitter huff as he returned to glance back toward the forest in the distance. 

“Don’t know what Dutch sees in ‘im, made me break that bastard out of jail,” he remarked, taking another drink as you walked over to lean against the tree nearby. So, he had broken Micah out of jail, much as the man in question wasn’t with him at the moment. 

“I take it that it didn’t go well,” you said, crossing your arms. 

“He made me shoot up _half a town_ for a pair of _guns_ ,” Arthur stated, that frustration you saw in him earlier clearly reflected in his tone, “Doesn’t wanna come back until he’s got some sorta peace offerin’ for Dutch, which means I’m gonna have to ride back out there soon.” 

Really, the mention of Micah was somewhat familiar to you. You knew he had been the one to ride out with you the night you had fallen down the side of that cliffedge, the one who had supposedly left you for dead but...well, you weren’t sure how fair an assumption that was just yet. Though, hearing he had left that town in a blaze of gunfire and chaos, it seemed to line up with Arthur’s irritation toward the man. 

Micah may know what happened that night, too, but you weren’t in a rush to ask him. With the animosity, you weren’t sure how truthful that information would be. 

“Guess that’s going to have to be a hell of a peace offering…” you said after a small sigh, shaking your head. 

You were surprised to hear about the shooting, too. Though...well, you also knew that you should have gotten used to it. How big of a bounty had that agent said Arthur had? Five thousand? You imagined that probably wasn’t earned through petty crime, and you had no idea if you had your own or how that stood in comparison if you did have one. It was something that didn’t sit right, still didn’t, but there was a part of you that was relieved that he hadn’t been shot during the whole thing, admittedly. 

“Dutch ain’t the only one he owes that to…” Arthur remarked, shooting you a look as you furrowed your brows. You weren’t sure if he meant himself or you. You could have left that as it were, but…

“...You still blame him for what happened to me?” you asked, tilting your head. 

“Yes,” Arthur snapped, gathering himself somewhat unevenly to a stand, “...No. I _dunno._ I blame Micah, I blame myself. I don’t know.” 

“There’s no way _you_ could’ve known…” you replied around a sigh, recalling the similar conversation you had with him in that frozen, run down building.

“No, but I didn’t like the idea of splittin’ off from you. Thought I was just bein’ overbearin’, but…” 

“I don’t think you could have done anything without the foresight to be standing close when I fell, or was thrown, or…” you trailed off, feeling a slight twisting in your gut. Some guilt there for Arthur beating himself up, but there was something else there unrelated yet…

“I don’t know what I’m insinuating with that,” you replied, waving a hand slightly, “It was just a fall, I doubt you would have been able to do something about it. I don’t blame you for that, so…”

“I know you don’t,” Arthur remarked, “Still should’ve done somethin’. Could’ve prevented all this…” 

He had shifted himself toward you as he spoke, though you weren’t sure if it was to step back toward camp or just pacing the space. However, he stumbled a bit, causing you to instinctively reach out to grip his shoulder so he didn’t fall or bump into you. The motion had him lingering close, your hand resting on his shoulder as Arthur placed his hand against the bark at your back. At the closeness, it wasn’t hard to make out the look in his eyes, a couple of the scars on his face. You also took in the faint smell of the whiskey he had been drinking, along with cigarettes and campfire smoke. 

That memory of that kiss seemed to linger a moment, and you knew in that moment you could very much just lean forward and kiss him. It could reassure that--well, no. No, that didn’t feel right. You knew that as much when you felt his forehead press lightly against your own, getting ready to shift your hands up to push him back.

However, it seemed Arthur thought better of that too, considering him shifting back somewhat. Instead, he seemed to shift to press the side of his head against your own, letting out a slow breath that lingered against the skin of your neck, pulling a quick shiver from you. 

“I miss you,” he muttered, his tone carrying that slurred quality that you had been waiting for, though the words squeezed hard at your heart. 

You found your eyes turning upward toward the darkening sky, pressing your lips into a thin line. _That’s not fair_ , a voice in the back of your head hissed. It was cruel. You knew he did. Christ, you knew. How could he not? Yet, you couldn’t do anything about that. Bring those memories back, to even expect them to replace your current ones. It felt impossible. Still, you found yourself raising your hands to slip up around his arms, holding onto the back of his jacket as you rubbed another along his upper back somewhat. 

“I...I think you’ve had a long day, and a little to drink…” you said, already feeling him tense somewhat at your words, “Maybe you should go sleep it off or something, we can talk about this another time.” 

“...Yeah,” Arthur muttered after a moment, shifting back as you dropped your arms back to your sides. “Yeah.” 

He didn’t look at you, but you didn’t miss the way he rubbed a hand across the lower half of his face, turning to wander back off into camp. You let out a slow breath, bumping your head back against the tree. Should you have kissed him, then? No. No, that still didn’t feel like the right choice. Should you have told him that you missed him, too? Well...no, that wouldn’t make sense either. You did miss him somewhat, when he was gone. His company, his presence, yet...well, it wasn’t in the same way and you would be kidding yourself if you thought it was. 

Still, it left you with a fluttering in your chest and the lingering sensation of his warm breath on your neck.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this a bit later today, this weekend has been a little crazy on my end but I wanted to get this out by the end of the week. I’ve split this chapter in two since it was getting a little lengthy but yeah. I hope you all enjoy. 
> 
> TW: panic attack

You had an idea of how inevitable the gang moving was. 

In Colter you barely had enough time to gather your wits about you before you were packed up and moved along to Horseshoe Overlook, so you had been expecting something similar again with the new space. However, with everything going on and what had happened over the couple weeks you had spent in that camp, the days after that strange night near the edge of camp went by at almost dizzying speed. Arthur got distant a bit again, and with what he had said to you a couple nights ago, you weren’t too surprised. Between that and this apparent train that he was helping John with, you didn’t see much of him after the fact anyway. 

Had it been a bit of a relief? It was hard to say. 

Really, you weren’t too sure how you were feeling about Arthur at the moment. It was fond, but a confusing feeling nonetheless. Mary-Beth’s words circled a bit about seeing the whole situation as a good thing, and you wished you had her optimism. You couldn’t bring yourself to view it as such with how heartbreaking Arthur’s admission was. You knew that it wasn’t your fault, there was nothing you could do about an event you couldn’t even remember in full, but there was a part of you that felt for him. If it was lingering from your past or a result of how open he’d been to you about everything, it was hard to tell. 

Still, it was there. 

You had been hoping that you could have sorted it out for a couple days before anything major happened. 

However, instead, Dutch and John came riding in, a wreathing Strauss on the back of the latter’s horse. There was talk about a shootout, someone named Cornwall. Really, with how fresh that whole issue with your uncle was, you could admit to liking to see Strauss squirm a bit, but knew better than to linger too heavily in that. 

Arthur was notably missing, something you had noticed with a small frown. However, Grimshaw had been quick to usher you off into helping pack up camp once Dutch had given the confirmation that they would have to move. 

With how much camp had looked like a small community, it had been packed up pretty quickly. Mary-Beth, Karen, and Tilly offered good conversation and company throughout the whole thing, as much as you were somewhat quiet with how rushed the whole thing felt. In those moments you had wished you had some sort of memory of living with them beforehand, so you could at least have some sort of idea of what the whole process was like. 

Though, you figured it might not make much of a difference. 

As soon as you arrived at the new camp location, all roaming wagons and horses, you immediately missed the cool nip of the air at Horseshoe Overlook. The ride down there had given you some reprieve from the rush to get out of the old camp, but Grimshaw made it where you were ushered right back into setting up the camp. All that had been taken down needed to be put back up. 

You weren’t opposed to hard work, you had found out, though there was a vague swaying in your head after a while that had you stumbling a couple times. If it was the heat or the lingering effects of your injury, much as it wasn’t as obvious in appearance anymore. Mary-Beth, seeming to catch on, forced you to take a moment behind one of the wagons while Susan’s watchful eye was focused somewhere else. With the small headache forming, you were somewhat relieved someone cared enough to notice. 

You knew a part of you would push it. 

Still, eventually the workload seemed to lessen somewhat as the camp started to look familiar to what it was at Horseshoe. The small clearing was lush and humid, the breeze coming off the water not really doing much in the long run. It had only been a day or so since the move and you still weren’t quite used to the heat. 

Though, at least things seemed to be settling, your hands resting against one of the horse’s hitching posts as you watched a couple people move about camp. You let out a small sigh through your nose, glancing back as you heard someone approach from behind you. 

“How’re you holdin’ up?” 

You hadn’t actually spoken to Arthur much, not since he had taken off with Charles to find a new place to settle, apparently changing course to the current place. He was around camp, but everything just seemed so busy. 

“Fine,” you replied with a small nod, “This is a cozy little place.”

“Sure,” he said, coming around to lean against the post beside you, “It’s the place around it I’m not sure on yet.” 

“Guess Dutch will be getting his hands into it soon enough,” you replied, glancing toward the tent near the middle of camp, and the familiar wagon beside it. 

“You given much thought ‘bout how you’re payin’ that debt back?” Arthur asked, the question making you raise your eyebrows slightly. You hadn’t been expecting that so soon, though it was a fair enough question. You really hadn’t given it much thought, which probably was a mistake but…

“I don’t know,” you replied around a small sigh, “I could...start going out on jobs, but lord knows who would let me do so lately with how I had been looking.” 

“Well…” Arthur started, starting out into camp with his head tilted in thought before he was shifting somewhat to dig around in his satchel, “I got some money here, maybe…” 

You glanced toward him for a moment, a frown crossing your face. Letting him do so would take that pressure off your plate, and yet…

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head, “Don’t do that.” 

“ _No?_ ” he questioned, furrowing his brow somewhat as he glanced back toward you. 

“I...I get what you’re doing, I understand, but…” you trailed off a moment, letting out another small sigh, “I had to go up there and betray their trust, and I already took some of their money. I want to make up the rest, not just... _have it paid._ I have no idea how to repair all that, if there’s a chance, but...”

Was all of that too prideful? Possibly. Really, you knew the small twisting in your gut at Arthur’s offer was more so out of guilt than anything. There was a part of you that hoped you could find some sort of way to help with that by taking on the debt yourself, and pay it back yourself. Arthur had been originally sent to collect the debt, but he didn’t in the end. That wasn’t on his shoulders, much as the other debts were. 

“Don’t see why you wouldn’t, but...alright,” he replied, putting a small amount of relief in you as he seemed to let that idea go. 

“If you really want to help, I could use something that would make me some money that isn’t hanging around camp doing chores.”

You knew you would have to head out on your own a bit eventually, much as your condition before kept you around camp and the move to the new camp hadn’t given you the chance yet. Still, a point in a good direction would be nice. However, Arthur seemed to think that over before he was reaching back into his satchel at his side, instead digging around in what appeared to be some papers he’d collected. 

“Found a feller while I was ridin’ around,” he said, finding the paper he was looking for, “Some...adventurer, I dunno. Bought his treasure map off him, though.” 

“Treasure map?” you asked, letting out a small huff. 

“Yeah,” he replied, sounding vaguely defensive at the disbelief in your tone, “Jack Hill Gang, you hear of them?” 

“Eh, sure…” you replied, tilting your head slightly as he opened up the map, immediately seeing a town sketched there, some structures of rocks. 

“Might be worth a look…” Arthur muttered, your shoulder bumping his a moment as you looked a little closer at the clues. 

“Looks like Valentine…” you commented, pointing toward the town, “At least, the church looks familiar.” 

“Yeah, pretty sure I got an idea on where this is too,” Arthur replied, gesturing toward the rocks. 

“So...what, I follow this and find this infamous gang’s treasure?” you asked, raising an eyebrow slightly as he closed the map. 

“I dunno, maybe? I paid ten dollars for the damn thing.” 

“Ten dollars? Huh. Well, maybe it is worth a look then.” 

“Yeah, so that means that if you’re gonna take this up, I’m comin’ with you.” 

Well, he did buy the map. Plus...well, you could remember the area around Tumbleweed pretty well but out east? Not really. You knew it would send you out toward Valentine and Arthur said he might know the rocks. 

“That’s fair,” you replied with a small grin, “Though, I’m probably going to want to get on this pretty quick.” 

“Ain’t much goin’ on right now…” Arthur replied, lifting his gaze back toward camp. It seemed that they would want a day or two to settle into things before starting to look around this new place, you figured you might be able to leave for a day or so. 

“Not if I keep standing around talking,” you replied with a small chuckle, “But, sure, let me get a horse ready.” 

* * *

You were a little excited, admittedly. 

There hadn’t really been a time you had fully left camp for more than a couple hours, especially for something that you knew wouldn’t bring about some sort of drama. You also had to admit to a touch of curiosity in seeing Arthur outside of camp and more into his own element. At least, you could assume it was. He hadn’t struck you as much of a treasure hunter, but he’d been interesting enough to spend a good amount on this map. 

Plus, the cooler air as you both moved out from Lemoyne was a welcome change, as much as you knew you would have to get used to the heat for a while still. If they continued to move further south. 

“We’re gonna have to get you a good horse eventually,” Arthur commented, pulling you back into the moment as you seemed to fall into stride with him somewhat. 

“Yeah…” you said around a small sigh, glancing down at the shire that had been your companion for a little while now, “I do like _this_ horse, though.” 

“He’s a camp horse, so he ain’t really _yours._ ” 

“Yeah, fair…” 

Much as you didn’t mind the horse, you knew it would be pretty inconvenient to have to be down a horse every time the wagon was needed. You knew you had already faced that issue with the move, though riding in a wagon with some of the other gang members hadn’t had you thinking about it too much. 

“Could try to find you one while we’re out,” Arthur pointed out.

“He’s fine for now,” you said with a small shrug, “I’ll get one, it’s on my list. It’s just been one thing after another lately.” 

“Ain’t rushin’ you any, just sayin’,” Arthur replied, waving a hand slightly, “Though, you can say that again.” 

“So, what’s this issue with that...Cornwall?” you asked, “It was just a might upheaval at camp, I wasn’t too sure what was going on.” 

“He was the man we robbed that train from up in the mountains,” Arthur explained, “With them Pinkertons sniffin’ about, figured that would come to a head eventually. He cornered us in Valentine.” 

“Should we be getting near it?”

“No,” Arthur replied, letting out a bit of a huff that lacked some humor, “Though, you wasn’t with us, might be able to sneak in if you need anythin’ but wouldn’t linger in town. We’re just goin’ around it, anyway.” 

“Alright…” you muttered. He knew the details of that situation, so you trusted him to know what he was doing. 

Still, moving around the town’s limits did set you on edge somewhat, trying to keep your eyes from lingering too long on random riders passing by. That whole situation...well, it was another thing you might have to get used to. This whole life, going into it with little experience when you knew you had it before left an almost endless well of frustration in your gut. You didn’t know your role in the gang before, outside of the things you had been told by a few people, but it was hard to say if that even mattered anymore. 

Not if you didn’t want to move around in the shadow of yourself, as odd as that thought was. 

Though, finally moving beyond Valentine did put some relief in you, keeping a quick trot behind Arthur as he seemed to know where the rocks were on that map. You mostly just knew the path to and from Valentine to camp, along with the Downes ranch, but nothing beyond that. Much as you knew the reasons for staying behind at camp while your head injury healed, there was a small part of you that envied Arthur being able to roam like he did. 

The few times you did leave camp, it was either in trying to sort out a mess or you had Dutch giving you some sort of look. A part of you could understand where he was coming from with all of that, considering the memory issues, but...well, you had to prove loyal to them eventually, right? In the moment, you thought back to that O’Driscoll they kept in camp--Kieran? You had seen him wandering around camp from time to time, he seemed to have been allowed that, but--

Well, your two situations were very different. They had to be. Still, he was another face you figured you should talk to more. Though, some days you really just wanted to curl into yourself at the stress of everything. Who was who to you, what your relationship with them would be now. 

“We’re nearly there,” Arthur commented, thankfully pulling yourself out of the spiral of thoughts you had almost been pulled into. 

Indeed, it wasn’t too long until you had reached a sort of cliff that looked a lot like what had been drawn on that map. There was a touch of relief that settled in you in being able to focus on finding what you had rode out there for. Arthur explained that you’d probably have to climb up to the top of it, showing the drawn directions of the ledge that apparently was supposed to be around the side. There you’d find...some sort of treasure. 

“You really think they hid their belongings in this cliff ridge?” you asked, taking Arthur’s offered arms to climb up onto the rock. 

“I dunno,” he replied around a small grunt, helping you up to where he was standing, “If they were _stupid_ , maybe. I’m thinkin’ this is only some sort’ve taste of what they’re hidin’ somewhere else.” 

“You think Dutch would ever put somethin’ like this together?” you asked, genuinely curious as you walked further toward the cliff edge where it seemed like that ledge would be. 

“Hell if I know...” Arthur muttered, “Far as I’ve known him, Dutch seems to actually not want to _waste_ money. Then again, we don’t got much now to even _consider_ this.” 

“Should run it by him some day, maybe. When things are better. You can draw the maps,” you said, offering him a small grin with a light scoff in return. 

“Yeah, yeah…” he returned, letting you step ahead as you walked toward the edge peering down the side of it. “So, you wanna do the honors or should I?”

However, his following question seemed to almost sound miles off as you took in the sight of the ground below you. The side of the cliff seemed to stretch, the ground lowering slowly as if it felt like you might fall forward. For a few moments, you weren’t standing in the middle of that forest with Arthur, but were back on the mountain in the mountains. The area seemed to almost yawn and open below you, the harsh winds and torrents of snow burning at your skin. The horse under you kicking a fit as a bullet rang out and echoed in your ears, and suddenly you were falling. Cold and stiff fingers had no hope of holding onto the reins. 

You could feel the impact of the ledge you had been standing on, taking a terrifying roll back with arms and hands grasping uselessly at snow and ice before--

Someone grabbed your arm from behind, the image in your mind shattering almost violently in front of you as blinding white and snow shifted into greens and trees. In a panic, you whirled around, the arm with the hand on it twisting a little painfully as you raised your free arm up to shove off whoever was holding you, fist raised as an almost panicked rage overtook you. Instantly, another hand gripped at your free arm, pulling you back from the edge somewhat as you took in a deep breath. 

“Hey, ‘s--it’s me! You’re okay, calm down…” 

Arthur’s voice was stern, but it was enough to pull you away from the moment you had seemed to slip into. You let out a shaky breath, shutting your eyes. You felt his grip loosen somewhat, your arms lowing in return as you steadied your breathing against the pounding in your chest. 

“S-Sorry…” you managed to get out, shaking your head, “Sorry, I lost sight of where I was for a moment. Thought I was...I was back on that mountain…I don’t know why that happened.”

“You’re safe. Started shakin’ and teeterin’, thought you was startin’ to fall. Startled the hell outta me…” Arthur replied, glancing around himself before he shook his head lightly, “We’re on a cliff, I should’ve known...we don’t have to do--” 

“No, we went all this way,” you interrupted, shaking your head, “Maybe I can just…” 

“...Alright. I’ll do it, just...try to relax for a minute. You’ll be okay.” 

“Sure,” you said with a nod, trying to ignore the twisting in your gut and the tightness in your throat. In a way you almost felt _embarrassed_ \--that he had to see you like this, that it even happened. You had moments of fleeting familiarity, sometimes outright memories that passed like an odd sort of picture show, but...that felt like _pure terror_ for a few moments. 

“Damn it,” you muttered, swallowing down the urge to cry as you waited until Arthur returned with whatever was on that ledge.


	12. Chapter 12

“Well, turns out I was right. We got more places to visit.” **  
**

He hadn’t been gone more than a minute after you had watched him lower himself down onto the ledge, disappearing around the side of it to go find whatever was hidden on the side of it. You still felt shaky on your feet, hands shaking a bit but you were glad that Arthur brought with him a quick distraction. Arthur pulled himself back into the surface of the cliff, holding a worn piece of paper with some jewelry wrapped around his fingers. Letting curiosity try to drown out the tight feeling in your chest, you stepped closer to him as he opened up the map. 

Looking upon the drawing there, the location didn’t stick out to you at all. It appeared to be pointing toward three structures, some sort of water source in the middle. It didn’t appear to be on top of a cliff again, thankfully. 

“I know this place, too,” Arthur remarked after a moment, looking at the drawing again before nodding his head, “Ain’t too far, but it’s still a trek. Probably would have to make a day of it.” 

“How much of this have you explored?” you asked, some amusement sitting in your tone despite that. You knew Arthur was gone from camp a lot, you just assumed it was mostly on jobs for the gang. 

Though, you supposed doing things like this was still working for the gang, considering at least your earnings from this would be going back into their pockets. 

“Not too much,” he replied, shrugging, “Still haven’t been able to see what I make of the new camp.” 

“Still better than me,” you said, stepping back as Arthur tucked the map into his satchel. 

“You wanna go find this second piece?” he asked, causing you to shrug. Noncommittal in nature, but really you were more than willing to keep away from camp for a bit. 

“Sure, it’s not like I have anything pressing to do back there as of yet. Though, if you need to turn back around then I’ll follow. You’re the one with the direction out here anyway, it seems.” 

“I can afford a day for this, I guess,” Arthur replied, shifting to walk back toward the edge you both had climbed up from, “Ain’t got anythin’ pressin’ either. Though, I imagine Dutch’ll find somethin’ soon enough.”

“You still got to get that Micah back to camp?” you asked, causing him to cast you a curious glance. In the moment, you couldn’t help but wonder how much he remembered sharing a couple nights ago after he had leaned into the bottle a bit. 

“Been tryin’ to ignore that for as long as I’m able, but yeah…” he replied around a small sigh, pausing to slip off a small drop. He stopped in walking for a moment, watching as you did the same with a small grunt. Really, you were relieved to be on even ground again, trying to shake off the lingering effects of that memory. 

You accepted that answer from him, deciding not to pry too much into that situation as Arthur pulled himself back up onto his horse. Getting onto your own, you followed after him as you tried to let that odd moment from before slip from your focus. You weren’t too sure if that was confirmation that you had fallen or if that was your anxiety about what happened showing itself again. What about that gunshot, though? You were pretty sure that was in your head. Though, you didn’t have the time to wander down that path or shove it from your mind, it seemed. 

“You okay from what happened up there?” Arthur asked after a few minutes of relatively silent riding, causing you to bite the side of your cheek as you glanced off toward the passing trees for a moment. 

“I just made the mistake of looking down, got scared.” 

“Seemed a little more than just that,” he continued, glancing back toward you over his shoulder somewhat, “Looked like for a moment there you was workin’ up to punch me.” 

_Ah, shit. Right._ Really, that whole thing felt like you weren’t in control, just acting on the first instinct that crossed your mind. You just felt the hand around your arm and turned around without much thought. 

“...I’m sorry,” you said around a sigh, “I wasn’t really thinking. I remembered myself falling and I just reacted. I was panicking, I guess.” 

“I understand,” Arthur said, waving a hand slightly, “That been happenin’ a lot?”

“Not really, no,” you said, shrugging, “Most of the time things just seem familiar, they usually don’t happen like that. Must have just been the height.” 

You saw Arthur nod his head lightly, seeming to accept the situation at that. Really, you were kind of relieved that he was leaving it be, and really you wanted to move on from it. That embarrassment still burned somewhat in your gut, much as you knew that it shouldn’t. You were just tired of feeling scared and confused about everything, the newness of the situation had been stepping off somewhat. 

Really, with knowing that your remaining family wouldn’t be accepting you back into their lives after that whole debiting business, you figured you would have to step into this life. Again. Though, with the state your memories were in, it might as well have been your first year with them all. Yet, you couldn’t do that and you knew it. Not with what you agreed to do in regards to your relationship with Arthur and memories and feelings that did filter in from somewhere you couldn’t put your finger on most of the time. 

It was what it was. 

You continued on at a steady pace up toward the mountains, the Grizzlies as Arthur had pointed out, heading up toward these springs that he was sure the map was depicting. Considering your unfamiliarity, you would have to take his word for it. Though, you were starting to become more aware as to why Arthur had been quick to point out getting your own horse, considering the work horse you had rode around on for the last while really wasn’t quite fit for the journey. Some guilt sat in your gut over that, making sure to slow down some and not push him too hard unless you had to for the time being. 

By the time you arrived at the springs, the sun was getting a little lower in the sky. It was still warm enough to suggest that it was early evening, but nightfall would be quick to follow. Still, upon riding up into the area, the stone structures on the map were not all that hard to find. Deciding to give your horse a couple moments, you slipped off your horse for a moment to take in the area. 

Much as you wouldn’t be in a hurry to call yourself an adventurer, you couldn’t help but admire the beauty of the scenery. The mountains, the trees. The springs were warm, the water a sharp blue and green as you could feel the warmth coming off the water once you got close enough.

“All I can remember from growing up was the desert. Everything’s a lot more...bright out here,” you commented, almost as an aside to yourself. However, you heard Arthur walk up beside you after presumably getting off his own horse. 

“Yeah…” he muttered in return, causing you to glance toward him a moment. After that hung in the air by itself for a few moments, you assumed he wasn’t going to say much else on that until you heard him continue, a touch of longing in his voice. 

“Really do miss bein’ out west, though. Open country, the heat. Felt...closer to the sky. Less people, less _rules_ …” Arthur let out a small exhale, something close to a bitter chuckle if you could even call it that. “Though, maybe that ain’t all like I’m rememberin’ it.” 

“That sounds a lot nicer than what I remember of it,” you replied, tilting your head as you studied the water in the spring a couple steps off from you. “I remember the relentless heat unless it was raining, dust and sand that would get everywhere. My dad used to complain about it all the time. Though, maybe Tumbleweed isn’t the best example.” 

“It really aint,” he said around a short chuckle, “Would like to get back out there again, but with how far south Dutch has us headed, I ain’t so sure if that’s what I can expect no more.” 

“Maybe he’s just biding his time,” you said with a soft shrug, not too sure what his intentions were yourself. You weren’t in that circle, much as Arthur was. Though, considering his uncertainty, maybe Dutch wasn’t sharing everything with him anyway. 

“Sure.” 

You shifted back, turning to glance over at the rocks you had rode all the way up there for. A good couple hours on horseback, you had some hope that there would be more than just another map and some jewelry. Catching the shift in your attention, Arthur turned around before rummaging around in his satchel for the map again. You moved closer to look at the drawing again, taking a moment to place everything together with the area around you. With a couple of steps backwards, you looked over the rocks for a moment before pointing toward one near the back. 

“Looks like it’s that one.”

“If you’re so sure,” Arthur said, gesturing his head toward it somewhat, “You can do it this time.” 

You gave a soft chuckle and smile at his comment, though you were somewhat grateful at doing something other than just making commentary this whole trip. Much as you had been trying to stop kicking yourself about that cliff, there was that frustration there. So, you walked toward the rock structure in question, moving about it curiously for a moment before you seemed to find an opening. Bending down and sticking your hand in the hole, sure enough you found another map and some bills. 

It wasn’t much--another tease to keep you on the trail. Still, with the jewelry and the money, it would be a good start to getting that debt off your shoulders. At least, once you split it between the two of you. It was only fair. 

“...Think I might know this place, too, but might be a bit too much for this trip,” Arthur muttered, “Looks like it might be near that place Hosea and I tried huntin’ that bear.” 

“ _Bear?_ ”

“You ain’t heard ‘bout that?” Arthur asked, some amusement in his tone, “Took me out there back at Horseshoe, talkin’ ‘bout some legendary bear. _Huge_ feller. He weren’t wrong, but we didn’t hunt much of anythin’ that trip. Seemed it got the better of _him_ , never seen the old man cower so quick when it came chargin’ at us.”

“Poor Hosea.” 

“Poor _me_ ,” Arthur returned around a chuckle, “I were the one havin’ to shoot at the beast for it to take off while he was hidin’ behind some rock. Though, figure I should be the one tellin’ you ‘bout all that before he starts addin’ some _twist_ to that whole thing over a campfire one night.” 

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind so he doesn’t take your glory,” you said around a small chuckle in return. “You think we’ll make it back to camp today?”

“If you’re up to travellin’ through all this in the dark,” Arthur said, turning to glance toward the sky for a moment, “Figure we could set up camp tonight, make it back by afternoon if we leave in the mornin’.” 

“That would probably be easier,” you said with a small shrug. Honestly, the trip was starting to wear on you a bit, in a good way. Much as there was that one hitch earlier. 

“Guess if I get on it right away, I can probably hunt us somethin’ for the night,” Arthur said, accepting that as he turned back toward his horse. 

“I’ll find a spot and get a fire going,” you said, earning a short nod as he removed his bow and you wandered off toward your horse. 

* * *

Nightfall was a lot closer behind than you had been expecting, managing to set up a fire just as the last rays of day started to disappear behind the trees. The air cooled as you managed to build the flames up enough to last for some time, allowing you time to get your horse settled and place your bedroll by the fire. With Arthur gone momentarily, it allowed you to lay back against it, face upturned to the sky. 

You had to admit to some relief at the knowledge that the day was ending, but it was a mixed feeling all the same. Going back to camp, despite it being as safe as it could be, left a strange pit in your stomach. You felt almost lighter out where you were, a set goal in mind that wasn’t washing shirts and refilling basins. Perhaps you needed that while you healed, but…

Hell, you didn’t quite know what else you could do. 

There was also that bit of a memory from earlier that was weighing on you, a part of you wanting to pick it apart. You knew you had done so pretty deeply with the one that resurfaced during Sean’s party, turned it this way and that in your head while trying to figure out if your mind was playing tricks. It had given you enough to know that it was truthful, that it didn’t feel as empty or made up as any other thought you had in trying to continue it. (Which did feel strange sometimes, imaging kissing him and the wandering thoughts on if it would feel different now. A thought that pulled some embarrassment out of you and had been something you pushed out of your head quickly enough.)

You could do the same with the one on the mountain, but...you were scared. You had to admit that to yourself. 

Though, the fact that you were and how overpowering it was seemed to say a lot on its own. 

You let out a small sigh, rubbing your hands over your eyes for a moment before looking back up at the sky. It was darker out, now, and you could make out a few stars. Though, you found your head lifting at the sound of a horse approaching from behind, causing you to sit up. However, you relaxed as you recognized Arthur as he hitched his horse next to yours. 

“Got a rabbit,” he said, pulling said animal from the side of his saddle, “Ain’t much but it’s enough. Should get somethin’ bigger for Pearson on the way back tomorrow, though.” 

“Rabbit sounds fine,” you replied, leaning back again somewhat as Arthur set about preparing the rabbit he had hunted. 

You watched him while he did so, the evening darkness playing with the light from the fire against his face. Arthur usually looked somewhat tired, and you didn’t need to know him for too long to know that he ran himself ragged for the gang. He was sharp edges and rough, he had a bad side to him and you knew that. Even if you hadn’t experienced that first hand, with Arthur’s own words about it and Dutch’s reliance on him as a strong arm, it wasn’t hard to piece together. Though, you figured it was only a matter of time before you witnessed that. 

There was also this other side to him. The patience and openness he showed you about this whole thing, the protectiveness of the people in camp--much as he had his own gripes with a few of them. That loyalty, even with the threat of death, as you saw at the river with those agents a while ago. There was also the man before you now, more relaxed than you had seen him be yet, even with the concentration he was showing in cooking that rabbit. 

Was this what you saw in him before? 

You had no idea. You had no idea what you were like now in comparison to how you were, having to rely on other people’s word for now on that. You could remember that conversation up in the snow. 

_‘...I’ve seen you do more than just threaten with that gun…’_

“You keep starin’ holes in the side of my head and I’m goin’ to think there’s somethin’ wrong.” 

You blinked, catching Arthur’s gaze out of the corner of his eye before you let out a somewhat awkward chuckle, bowing your head somewhat to study the toes of your boots. 

“It’s nothing, I’m just thinking. Sorry.” 

“Hell of a thought you must be havin’ if my ugly mug ain’t pullin’ you out.” 

“You’re not ugly,” you remarked so easily that it almost surprised you, “and it’s really nothing.” 

Arthur let out a small grunt, something that you weren’t sure on if it was him accepting that or dismissing it. Considering how quick he had been to put himself down, it might have been the latter. Still, you were somewhat grateful that he let the conversation go, offering you the rabbit once it had cooled from over the fire before setting out roasting his own. 

It was plain and unseasoned, but with how little you had ate that day, it was more than enough. 

“Did we used to do stuff like this?” you asked once you had finished eating, some curiosity getting the better of you. 

“Treasure huntin’? No. Could never find the maps. Though...you was a bit of a wanderer, used to be in and out of camp quite a bit. I’m surprised you lasted this long before askin’ to get out.” 

“Well, I guess that explains a bit,” you said around a small chuckle, “I’m kind of dreading going back to camp.” 

Arthur let out a chuckle, one that seemed warm, less sarcastic or humorless like you had heard before. Though, there was a touch of bitterness. 

“Way things are, I don’t blame you.” 

You let out a small chuckle, taking in a breath to say something more but a loud rumble overhead pulled you from that thought. Arthur shifted, glancing toward the sky off to your left before letting out a quiet curse and rising to his feet. 

“I have no idea where that came from,” you muttered, just able to make out the clouds in the gathering darkness. 

“Well, guess I’m usin’ the tent after all,” Arthur said, moving back toward his horse, “Unless you want to take your chances catchin’ your death by sleepin’ in the rain out here.” 

“No...No, I think I like that better,” you muttered. _Already almost froze to death once before._

The tent didn’t take too long to set up, more thunder rumbling overhead as Arthur did so. So much for falling asleep under the stars to a calm night, though you hoped the rain wouldn’t be too much if it did fall. You gathered up your bedroll from the ground once it was set up, Arthur putting his own in first. The tent was small, but enough to fit the both of you for the night without getting soaked by the rain. 

You crawled in first, laying yourself down somewhat as Arthur sat himself down near the opening in the tent. You watched for a few moments as he pulled out that familiar book you saw him writing in from time to time. Not wanting to seem intrusive, you shifted to lay down on your side facing him, focusing on the sounds of the woods around you and the rumbling thunder. You were trying to ignore the bit of a chill that was creeping in and the smell of wet earth. 

Though, Arthur’s small sigh pulled your attention toward him, glancing over as he spoke. 

“Couple nights ago, when I was drinkin’...” he started, “I...I’m sorry I said that. Weren’t right.” 

“I...I mean, that was rough to hear. I can’t lie about that. Though, I forgive you. Not much _to_ forgive, I wasn’t holding that against you.” 

“Still shouldn’t have said anythin’. It was the whiskey, I always end up sayin’ nonsense.” 

Speaking of not saying anything, you could feel the question bubbling up. A part of you knew you shouldn’t have said anything and yet…

“...So you don’t miss me? That was the whiskey?” 

Arthur paused, glancing toward you to meet your gaze for a moment before glancing back down at his journal. “‘Course I do. Might not make sense, you’re right here, but…” 

“No, that makes sense,” you returned around a small sigh. 

“My feelin’s don’t matter in this situation anyway, so--” 

“No, they do,” you interrupted, sitting up as you tried to piece your words together. “You...you might seem like a stranger to me in some aspects, though maybe not so much as before. Yet, I know that’s not the same for you. We’re not two strangers. It...It hurt to hear, but I do want to know things like that. I have no idea where you’re at half the time. Half the time I’m wondering when you’ll give up the chase.” 

You hadn’t expected the words to come out, a part of you immediately wanting to shut your last sentence back behind your teeth. 

“Give up the chase?” 

“...Here I go, saying things _I’m_ regretting…” you muttered, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes as you let out a heavy sigh through your nose before dropping them to speak, “I feel so complicated when it comes to you. I...feel _something._ I don’t know what it is. I don’t want to act on it because of that. That’s why I pushed you away, much as I remember us kissing once.” 

“I wouldn’t push you into anythin’, that’s why I’m apologizin’ for that whole mess. I weren’t thinkin’ straight.” 

“I know you won’t,” you replied with a nod, “I just...I know some people would have left and I...if it happened earlier, I probably wouldn’t have felt much. Yet, with what you told me about Mary, I just…” 

“You want me to leave?”

“...No,” you replied, glancing up to meet his gaze as you swallowed thickly, “There’s that something, now. I just...I know it’s hard. You don’t need to apologize for that.” 

“You feel somethin’ for me?”

Shit, was this even coming out right? It was true. It was the only way you could explain why you were still there. Why you felt so conflicted about leaving when you had the chance, perhaps. Why it hurt to think of him leaving you for that ex-fiancee of his. Yet, you knew it wasn’t something you were ready to act on in any way. 

You found yourself nodding anyway. For a few moments, you were nervous on what you should do or say next. However, there was a weight lifted, like you figured out an answer to a question you weren’t sure you wanted to ask yet. 

That feeling only continued when Arthur just nodded his head, glancing down toward the closed journal in his lap. 

“...Kinda relieved to know that,” he said after a moment, letting out a small huff as he glanced toward you, “What I told you about what happened with Mary, I still mean what I said. I’m tryin’ if you’re tryin’, as complicated as the whole thing with Mary is. This too, I suppose.” 

“...Okay,” you said around a sigh, nodding your head, “I wish I could be more sure, but…” 

“I understand,” Arthur said around a small chuckle. 

That put a small smile to your face, causing you to nod again before you shifted back to lay down again. You could still hear the thunder, the rustling of wind through the trees. Though, the light scratching of pencil against paper also added to the space, eventually lulling you into a sleep as the first drops of rain started to hit the ground. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the feedback and patience with everything lately. Life has been picking up a little more lately, so things may be slower than usual but I hope you all enjoy this new chapter all the same.

_He was winning big and certainly wasn’t looking to hide it._

_You had been watching him from across the saloon for a while now, nursing a drink and trying to look relaxed as you watched the man’s body language get more and more confident as the hands went on. Blackwater may not have been a place you knew all too well, but you knew he wouldn’t be getting this cocky over some pocket change. Unless he was drunk, but you doubted it._

_Heading into town with some of the women from camp, it was a nice break from your usual running around. You also knew that Arthur was nearby, but you weren’t looking to get him involved in whatever you decided to do that night. Judging from the man you had been keeping an eye on, you figured he would eventually back off the table and stash his winnings somewhere, or you could pickpocket him at some point._

_So, really, it was just a waiting game now._

_You continued to observe for some time, watching as more people left the table, more hands were won. Eventually, it seemed like the remaining players decided to take what winnings they had. You overheard your target mention getting a meal and the bath before rising from his seat on uneven feet--perhaps he had been drinking a bit. Still, you waited until the man had turned and wandered upstairs before you stood from your seat to go follow him._

_It wasn’t hard to notice the way your heart seemed to speed up, knowing that cornering a drunk man with a lot of money could go south very quickly. Still, you didn’t make much of a scene or hint into your thoughts when you caught Karen’s eye before heading up the stairs after the man. You had your knife if things went wrong, anyway._

_It appeared like the man had put his money in one of the rooms on the second floor, making you linger back as he reappeared out of the door. He caught your eye as he came to approach the stairs, giving you a quick nod and a “ma’am.”_

_You offered him a small smile in return, waiting for him to pass and head down the stairs before you approached the room he left. The door was unlocked, something you hadn’t quite been expecting but you pushed your way inside anyway._

_Immediately, you started to dig around in the drawers and nightstands near the bed. As you expected, most of them were empty until you approached the dresser near the back of the room. There you found some clothing, causing you to dig around in that for anything that felt like some money or anything valuable you could sell. You managed to stash a watch and a couple of rings, but you still hadn’t found what the man had won downstairs just yet._

_With a sigh, you started looking around for something unusual, checking the bed before your hunch was proven right. He stashed it in a shoe, causing you to chuckle softly to yourself before you tucked the bills into your bag._

_However, as you turned to head out toward the door and hopefully head back to camp all the richer for your efforts, you heard footfalls coming toward the room. You knew you should have found a place to hide, to wait until he got what he wanted and left. However, rather foolishly, your anxiety at the noise seemed to root you to the spot for a little too long. You started to move toward the side of the room after a moment, but the door opened to reveal the very man you were trying to steal from._

_He paused as his gaze met yours, the confusion that sat there shifted quickly into anger._

_“The hell’re you doin’? Goin’ through my things?”_

_“Now…” you started, but trailed off somewhat as he began to approach you with quicker strides, “Now this isn’t what it--”_

_“ **You little** \--”_

_His hand wrapped around your forearm, almost flinging you around when he saw you trying to slip by him. The grip was rough, almost bruising as he shoved you back into one of the dressers. You knew this was going to escalate, and perhaps you should have used your words, yet when he moved toward you again, you seemed to move without much thought. You managed to shift to the side as he came at you again, slamming himself against the dresser with less control as you realized he was drunker than you had been expecting._

_You reached back toward your bag, fishing out your knife as he turned to swing at you. You landed a swift cut against the palm of his raised hand, which pulled a sharp yell from the man’s mouth that seemed to shake you further into the moment._

_**There’s no way nobody heard that.** _

_In the moment, you moved quickly to slip out of the room. However, the man was close behind you, slamming you into one of the tables in the small sitting area upstairs. You heard the impact of his fist against your jaw before you felt it, but it was enough to give him the upper hand to unarm you. He pried the knife from your grip, flinging it toward the floor nearby before he hauled you to your feet._

_The impact of one of the walls against your back knocked the air out of you, his arm coming up to pin you to the wall by your neck. The ache in your jaw started to bloom then as you realized he had you trapped, a pained grunt escaping you as he pressed harder against your neck._

_“Where’s my money?” he growled, causing you to shrug and shake your head._

_“I have no idea what you’re talking about--” you managed to gasp out, causing him to press harder on your neck._

_“Ain’t no way you have nothin’ when you fought so hard. Where is it?”_

_“I...dunno,” you replied, grunting softly when you seriously felt him pressing dangerously down against your windpipe._

_At that point, you started to struggle all the more, trying to shove him off as he talked to you again. However, the words seemed to go in one ear and out the other. You knew it only lasted a couple of moments, but it felt like it stretched on forever until you heard a sharp voice cut into the struggle._

_“ **Hey!** ”_

_You flinched somewhat upon hearing it, the man holding you by the neck turned his head toward the stairs as he shifted his hold. When you felt him do so, you tried to fight back again, but he just pressed his hand against your neck instead, pulling a choked sound from you._

_“Let her go,” the new person continued, Arthur’s voice putting an admittedly large amount of relief in you as your mind caught up to the moment at hand._

_“This don’t involve you, get lost,” the man in front of you snapped._

_“Let her go **now** ,” Arthur returned, his voice almost a growl as you continued to struggle against the uncomfortable pressure on your neck._

_“You **really** wanna see--” the man holding you started, but was cut off as he was roughly pulled off you._

_You let out a gasp and a cough as the pressure around your neck was released, your hand coming up to touch lightly against your neck. Glancing back, you saw Arthur take a punch before he swung out, colliding with the other man’s face with a **crack** before he grabbed him._

_“Hey, c’mon,” Karen’s voice came from behind you, causing you to glance toward her with wide eyes as she grasped lightly at your shoulder before ushering you downstairs before headed out into the street._

_You decided to skip a conversation about what happened, heading toward your horse and rode out toward the edge of Blackwater near camp. In doing so, you figured you probably made the right choice in that instead of waiting for the law to turn up and make it all the messier. You remained near a couple of trees for a while, trying to pull your mind back from what had just happened. It wasn’t your first experience with violence being the first reaction some people have in knowing you had stolen from them, but it was a terrible experience every time._

_However, you didn’t get to dwell on it too much. You heard a horse riding out toward you from the road. You peered around the tree somewhat, relaxing some upon seeing the rider as his horse came to a stop and he dismounted._

_“The hell was you doin’?” Arthur demanded, his tone of voice not shaking you. You were pretty familiar with this type of argument from him, born mostly out of concern._

_“Robbing,” you replied with a sigh, “The guy came back to his room when I thought he had left, caught me doing through his things…”_

_“Christ…” Arthur replied around a sigh, pausing a moment as he let that linger before speaking up. “You okay?”_

_“Yeah, sure.”_

_“You ain’t foolin’ nobody with that, c’mon,” Arthur returned, sounding somewhat exasperated as you found yourself letting out a sigh through your nose that was almost a chuckle._

_“I’m...okay. Little shaken up and my face hurts, but I came out on top.”_

_“Did you? Sure didn’t seem that way from where I stood,” Arthur returned, causing you to glance toward him as he leaned against the same tree truck you had your back against._

_With a small, somewhat tight grin, you held the bag up from where it hung on your hip. That seemed to be enough of an answer as Arthur let out a small huff, shifting closer as you dropped the bag back down to your hip and leaned your head into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, the action causing you to relax further into his embrace as you felt him press his lips against the side of your forehead._

_“We keep like this and people will figure this out,” you commented, feeling Arthur sigh against the side of your head before he shifted somewhat to speak._

_“They’re gonna have to know eventually…” he said after a moment, causing you to raise your eyebrows slightly, “If some of them ain’t figured it out already.”_

_You smiled softly, despite the pain in your jaw, at his words. While you hadn’t been overly paranoid about it, you knew there were moments where one of you would slip up in camp and show that you were much closer than you had agreed to be when this whole thing with him started. The odd lingering touch or look, causing the looks tossed your way from people watching on. Still, you supposed when the time is right…_

_You pulled back from his hold somewhat, looking up into Arthur’s face before you noticed some slowly forming bruise on his cheek. Reaching up, you traced your fingers lightly there as you let out a small sigh._

_“...Thank you,” you muttered, shaking your head, “I should have been more careful, but I don’t know how that would have ended if you hadn’t shown up.”_

_“He ain’t gonna be an issue,” Arthur remarked, lowering his gaze toward your neck as you tried not to bow your head in embarrassment. Still, you offered him a small grin when you felt him touch your jaw in return to the touch you gave his face._

You woke up with a small shiver, pulled out of you mostly by the bit of chill that had leaked into the tent from the night of rain. Still, the effects of the dream left you feeling strange and somewhat disoriented. You could almost feel the dry heat of the air around Blackwater, the touch of Arthur’s stubble against the side of your forehead from when he had kissed you there. Was that a dream? It didn’t feel like it, but…

Christ, you weren’t going to dig into that at the moment. It was a small mercy that it wasn’t about that mountain.

You rolled over somewhat, noticing that the bedroll beside yours was empty. The conversation from the night before still lingered in the back of your mind, along with the dream you were trying to shove down for the moment. Though, thankfully you heard some rummaging around from outside near where you had set up the fire. A tired exhale escaped you through your nose, bringing your hand up to rest over your eyes for a moment as the effects of sleep started to subside. You wished you could tell someone about what was happening, but…

Well, you didn’t know what was truth or just your subconscious trying to string together a story in your sleep.

However, you didn’t get to ponder on that for too long when you heard someone approach the tent again, pulling back the tent flaps as you lowered your hand. Arthur gave you a small nod in greeting as he reached out to pull his bedroll toward himself, starting to roll up the fabric.

“Did I sleep long?” you asked, your voice a little rough from sleep as you started to sit up.

“Naw, I ain’t been up long,” Arthur replied, “Figured you could use some extra time after yesterday anyway.”

“Thanks,” you said, watching him for a moment, “You’re not a late sleeper, I take it?”

“Never can fall back asleep when I wake up,” he replied, securing his bedroll before tucking it under his arm, “We might want to get goin’ soon if we want to get back to camp without much gripe about leavin’.”

You muttered a quick agreement, pulling yourself up to step out of the tent. The air was cool, it really would have been an uncomfortable night if you had ended up sleeping without the tent. You worked on getting your bedroll secured onto the back of the satchel, taking a moment to have some coffee from the percolator as Arthur took down the tent and started to secure it on his horse.

“Y’know, we came so far and came _so close_ to finding out where the last of his gang’s treasure is, and we’re just turning back,” you said around a soft chuckle, glancing back toward Arthur as he peered back at you from over his saddle.

“Another time. Not like there’s other maps to this place,” Arthur replied, seeming to secure the last thing he needed as you finished off your cup of coffee and set about putting out the fire and gathering the things around it.

“Yeah, but feels like that’s going to sit unfinished,” you replied, only half-serious. Really, with how things were, you weren’t sure just when you would have the time to go out to find the last of it.

“Hey, if you wanna run off after it, I won’t stop you,” Arthur replied, hoisting himself up into the saddle as you approached your horse.

“I’ll probably get eaten by a bear and you’ll never see me again.”

“Mm.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to agree to that,” you muttered around a small chuckle as you pulled yourself up onto the saddle. Arthur let out a small amused huff, something you returned with a grin of your own as you started to follow him back down toward the current camp.

You couldn’t deny the small disappointment at heading back, much as you knew you would need to eventually.

* * *

The camp was starting to look more like it did back at Horseshoe Overlook when you had managed to return late afternoon a couple of days ago, things only picking up from there. Despite the time alone with him, Arthur was swept back up in gang business once he had returned in behind you, leaving you to pick back up what you had been missing around camp. Grimshaw had been quick to pick up on your absence, making her way over toward you after you had just settled your bedroll back into its usual spot.

_“How nice of you to join us again, Miss,” she snapped, the venom in her tone jarring you somewhat. “I had been thinkin’ with your injury it would’ve taught you better about how often you wander off, but I see you’re pickin’ up that habit again.”_

_“I was out making money for the gang.”_

_“Oh, I imagine. You and Mr. Morgan alone.”_

_“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you returned around a sigh._

_“I wasn’t born **yesterday.** Now, get to work.”_

Karen had been quick to add her own opinion into the mix once the older woman was out of the earshot about how Grimshaw had been getting iller than a hornet the last couple days, having her issues with the woman. You had wanted to comment, but with the tension building in both yourself and what you saw from Karen herself, you held back the question as you agreed.

Thankfully, settling back in over the last couple of days and keeping your head down allowed you to avoid further confrontation. Mary-Beth and Tilly had been good company for the day you had caught up on laundry, talking about the odd thing that had happened at camp while you had been gone. From the sounds of it, they managed to settle pretty quickly with only minor issues cropping up.

There had been some mention of Molly, who you had seen about camp and around Dutch’s tent. She was someone you had yet to get to know, though from how Karen had made it sound, she wasn’t interested in associating herself with them anyway. It hadn’t been hard to miss the way Molly seemed to carry herself, but you had to wonder just what was happening there.

However, you weren’t going to involve yourself in business you had no reason to be looking into.

Still, things seemed relatively calm up until a familiar face appeared back into camp. You knew Arthur had mentioned having to go back up to get him, but you had found yourself wishing it hadn’t been so soon.

Thankfully, Micah seemed to keep his distance for the time being, focusing his apologetics toward Dutch for the most part. Still, you found yourself trying to avoid him in camp for the most part, Grimshaw’s continued irritation and his presence in camp making it hard to focus from the ball of stress forming in your chest. Try as you did to stop it, you had found yourself lingering on the thought of what you had experienced while out in the Grizzles with Arthur.

It seemed that Micah’s presence and face around camp ended up pulling out more tension from you than you had been thinking it would, the memories of waking up on that mountain and what you could remember from before then started lingering just below the surface. You wondered if it would be worth confronting him about what happened on that mountain, but from what you knew of him, there was a part of you that suspected you might just get lies in return.

That gunshot you remembered hearing, it haunted you sometimes when you let your focus slip long enough while doing chores, wandering around camp, whatever. That had to have been Micah, right? There was nobody else out there but the two of you. Yet, you couldn’t be sure. You knew you couldn’t go around accusing him or causing a scene just yet, not with the notable gaps in your memory.

_Still--_

A small curse escaped you as you pierced your finger somewhat with the needle you were using to fix someone’s shirt. You had started ruminating, that familiar tension sitting in your gut as you sucked on your hurt finger.

You couldn’t deal with that at the moment.

Your gaze wandered for a moment, taking in a couple of people near a campfire, Pearson’s wagon before you glanced toward Jack who was sitting nearby. He appeared to be drawing in the dirt with a stick that didn’t appear to be fit for the task.

“What are you doing?” you asked, tilting your head as the kid glanced toward you a moment before shrugging.

“Drawing,” he said, dragging another line in the dirt.

“Pretty big stick for drawing,” you commented, Jack looking back toward you with another shrug.

“I wanted someone to play swords with me, but nobody wants to.”

_Well._ You took a glance around yourself, mostly for a familiar sharp eye who would likely call you back into camp if she saw you slacking off. Yet, it just appeared to be you and Jack at the moment.

“I’ll play with you for a bit,” you offered, putting aside your things as you brushed some of the dirt from your hands, “If you want.”

“You will?” Jack asked, a small smile touching your face at the bright expression that crossed his face, “Okay!”

“Great. Should I get a sword of my own?”

Jack seemed to think for a moment before he jumped to his feet, causing you to rise from where you were sitting as he started to make his way around the back of the wagon.

“I know where you can get a good one!” he exclaimed, watching you expectantly as you started to follow out after him.

It was a strange distraction, but you figured you could deal with everything circulating in your head after doing this with the boy. You knew it would need to be addressed eventually, both Micah and what you remembered of that event, but it wasn’t hard to fall for the enthusiasm as Jack wandered toward a dead tree to pick out a stick for you.


	14. Chapter 14

You just knew it was a bad idea. **  
**

Perhaps not on Sean’s part, despite what you had heard about him, as his part of the plan seemed to fall into place as he said it would. Yet, you were a wire pulled too tight, something you had been feeling more and more as the days went along in the new camp. 

Your head almost felt too cluttered, going over the memories that had managed to come back to you, feeling stuck in that camp. You really could only sleep a couple of hours each night. It wasn’t right to keep ignoring everything that was pressing down, you knew it. Could start to feel it, yet you just couldn’t shake that fear. More and more, the nights would pass with you back on that mountain. The snow in your face, that loud gunshot. Yet, there was no Arthur to pull you out of that moment when it came to feeling that cliff edge dig into your torso, arms grasping for purchase before there was nothing but air. 

A couple of times you woke up with a shallow gasp, eyes wide as you tried to take in the area around you as reality sunk in. A few nights you had to stifle a couple yells, hand pressed tight to your mouth. Recently, however, it felt like you were expecting it. The jarring shock and fear seemed to ebb out as you woke up, that tight feeling in your chest and aching in your face from clenched teeth becoming more common. You just needed a night of good sleep, yet it seemed like your mind wasn’t going to let you. 

Trying to tell you of a thing you were well aware of in the back of your mind. Yet, you had been shoving it aside, not wanting to address it and what seemed to be teetering at the edge of your recollection. 

Instead, you went robbing with Sean. 

You knew you weren’t his first choice, or anybody’s with how things had been with you recently, but he needed a distraction and you knew you could stall a stagecoach for a few moments. It seemed simple enough, or at least it should have been. 

You hadn’t been expecting one of the drivers to start picking holes in your story. Most of your statements were met with questions, a tightness to his brow that came across to you as anything but concern. He was suspicious and you hadn’t said all that much to him. If you had been bucked off your horse, you certainly didn’t look all that roughed up. It was almost as if he could see through your plan, a look in his eye as if he recognized your face.

The weight of your gun at your hip was becoming more and more apparent to you as you tried to keep a somewhat even and politely confused expression in light of the man’s suspicion. You knew you should have just signaled for Sean--this was going downhill, he needed to take his shot soon if he was still waiting for the moment. 

Yet, despite that, the driver’s actions seemed to make the final call at the moment anyway. You could feel yourself growing all the tenser as you tried to continue forward with your story. However, you saw him shifting, arm going down toward his feet for something. You knew exactly what it was he was going to pull out. The rational part of you knew you should have raised your hands and further convince him that you were just some unfortunate soul on the side of the road. Yet, your hand moved toward the holster hidden by your hip under your jacket, pulling your weapon out as you saw the butt of the gun the driver was pulling out. 

If he just intended to threaten or if he saw through your story enough to want to shoot, you weren’t too sure. However, the way his expression shifted when he saw you going for your weapon was met with a sharp change in expression, something harder and more determined as he raised his gun up quicker. You almost didn’t feel like you were in control of yourself, your arm rising and you fired off a shot. The action seemed to pull everything around you into motion. 

You weren’t a good shot, you knew that. Yet, at that distance, it was enough. You shot hit him in the chest, sending him falling back into the seat and almost into the lap of the man sitting beside him. Your mind started screaming at you that this was a mistake, you were about to get shot. However, another shot rang out over your shoulder, hitting deadlier than your previous one as the driver fell out of the stage and into the dirt. The other man almost dove for the abandoned weapon, making you raise your weapon again to fire off another shot. 

However, Sean beat you to it, hitting him as he rose up after the one you shot missed him. Finally, it seemed like the horses had enough, charging the stage forward and down the road before slowing just somewhat out of sight. 

“What happened to signalin’ me before you decide to start trouble?” Sean asked, more confused than reprimanding. 

You let out a somewhat shaky breath, shutting your eyes as you saw your father’s body hit the ground in your mind’s eye for a moment. 

“I don’t...I don’t know,” you muttered, clearing your throat, “We shouldn’t linger.” 

“You can say that again,” Sean commented, letting out a whistle to call his horse over. You followed suit, trying not to overthink the sinking feeling in your gut as you tried to process what just happened. 

Riding out toward the abandoned stagecoach, you knew this probably wouldn’t be the end of it. 

* * *

You watched as he flung the rock out again into the river that surrounded the camp, the rock sinking into the water with a small splash. 

Jack had been trying to skip a stone for the last couple minutes, possibly longer. Though, you had only been invited to join him only recently. You return to camp with Sean hadn’t been all that out of the norm, not with how many people come and go from the camp, yet he couldn’t seem to just keep the events of the day to himself. It hadn’t taken too long before some people knew you had just up and shot a man in the chest. 

At least, that was what it sounded like from an outside view. 

You weren’t too sure what to make of the whole event, the moment playing out in your head throughout the day. There had been the moment where you were pretty sure you saw your father, the memory mixing oddly in with what sat fresh in your memory from that stagecoach. The way your father’s head snapped back with the impact of the bullet, the way the stagecoach driver’s body hit the ground. The way your hands struggled to grip the reins of your horse on that mountain, the gunshot ringing in your ears. 

The memories put a small shiver to your spine, making you let out a slow breath as Jack turned back toward you, a slight frown on his face. 

“I can’t do it,” he said, bringing you back to the moment. 

“Skipping stones?” you asked, clearing your throat slightly to keep the shake from your voice as the little boy nodded his head. 

“They just keep sinking,” he said, picking up more rocks as you stood from where you sat on a log near the bank to approach him a little more. 

“My dad taught me when I was little,” you said, shaking off the odd feeling upon mentioning your father with what was going on in your head. “You have to use flat rocks.” 

“Flat rocks?” Jack repeated, to which you nodded. 

“Yeah…” you said, bending down to pull one out the dirt, brushing it off somewhat, “You have to throw them a certain way, almost across your body. Like this.” 

Once you had risen to your feet, you turned your body slightly and flung the little rock out toward the water. To your relief, it bounced along the surface a few times before dropping down into the water. It wasn’t hard to hide the small grin that threatened to cross your face at Jack’s child-like wonder at the action before he immediately started digging around for another rock. You stood there with him for a few more minutes as he continued to toss rocks into the water, still not able to skip them but he seemed more determined with your little instruction. 

However, when he was looking around for yet another rock, you caught movement out of the corner of your eye. A familiar figure was making his way quickly toward you, only pausing when it seemed like he noticed you weren’t alone as Jack pulled another rock from the sand. Though, it didn’t take long for the boy to notice him standing there, too. 

“Heya, Uncle Arthur!” he greeted as Arthur stepped further into the area, “She’s teaching me how to skip rocks!” 

“That’s great, kid,” he replied, the tension to his voice wasn’t lost on you, “I’m thinkin’ your mama’s been askin’ for you, though.” 

“Oh, okay,” Jack said, somewhat deflated before he turned toward you, holding the rock out toward you, “Here. Can we do this another time?” 

“Sure,” you said with a small nod and grin, taking the rock from him as Jack turned to rush back toward camp. 

You watched him slip passed Arthur, the man watching him go for a moment before he was stepping down toward where you were standing near the water. The tension and frustration in his body language were as clear as day, pulling a small sigh out of you as you turned back out toward the water to toss the rock back in. 

“The hell’s gotten into you?” Arthur demanded, the sharpness in his tone surprising you somewhat. 

“What are you talking about?”

You had an idea. If the events earlier that day weren’t clear enough, you knew you had been tense and distant with him recently in light of everything going on in your head. Though, with Arthur being out most of the time doing business for the gang, you thought it wouldn’t have been that noticeable, and yet…

“You goin’ out on a job with Sean?” he continued, his tone tight, “Lost your head and shot a man for no reason near town, the way he’s been tellin’ it. With what Dutch has been tryin’ to do in Rhodes, last thing we need is that.” 

“Sean’s got the story wrong,” you stated, “I was defending myself--and like _you_ can talk. Last time you headed into town with Sadie, that ended up some firefight.” 

“That’s different,” Arthur returned, causing you to let out a small scoff. 

“ _Is it?_ You and Sadie were defending yourselves. I saw the driver reaching for his weapon, saw the butt of his rifle. I just…” 

You let out a sigh, your words trailing off. What you had done, you knew you had your justifications and yet it didn’t feel like you were sure. However, Arthur seemed to step back from his confrontation somewhat, his body language relaxing slightly as he shook his head. 

“Ever since that trip we took, feels like things changed. You gonna tell me what’s goin’ on?”

_Shit._ You had to fight the urge to shut your eyes, your gut twisting as you pressed your lips together. There had been a lot you were avoiding thinking about, much less talking. Yet, you knew you had to let him know what was going on. 

“It wasn’t the trip,” you said around a sigh, “It’s...it’s just Micah.” 

“He say somethin’?” Arthur asked, the shift in his expression almost immediate. 

You knew he was waiting for something to go after him with regarding what happened to you, and with what you remembered of the event, there just might be something. Yet, you didn’t trust your memory at the moment, not with how...incomplete that memory was. How messy your head was getting, along with trying to navigate your current and past feelings toward Arthur. 

“No,” you said, shaking your head slightly, “He hasn’t said anything to me, and I’ve been avoiding him. I just…” 

You could feel a tightness in your chest building as the words sat at the edge of your tongue. There was a part of you that had just wanted to tell someone what was going on but couldn’t, and yet…

“I feel like I’m losing control of myself, Arthur. I don’t know,” you admitted, crossing an arm over your midsection, pressing your free hand over your mouth for a few moments as if trying to hold back the words. Still, you let it drop after a few moments. “I’m remembering things. I keep...reliving that moment on the mountain _over and over_ in my sleep. I keep hearing that gunshot and I just wonder if...I don’t even know. I can’t focus, I can’t sleep. I shouldn’t have gone on that job today, I know. I don’t want to fight with you, Arthur, I...” 

“I’m…” Arthur started, moving all the closer to you as you tried to swallow against the tightness in your throat. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I had no idea that was happenin’.” 

“...I feel like I’m losing my mind,” you admitted. 

Despite your best efforts in holding it back, a short sob escaped you before you pressed a hand over your mouth. Yet, you could feel the shaking in your shoulders, the sting of tears in your eyes. 

As much as you understood that Arthur wasn’t the most comforting of people, you were somewhat relieved to see him step forward with a small sigh and shake of his head. Arthur’s hands were warm against your shoulders as he placed them there, causing you to meet his gaze. 

“No, you ain’t,” he said, rubbing your shoulders somewhat, “I don’t...I don’t rightly know what’s happenin’ with you, but--Christ, you ain’t had an easy time. I forget that sometimes.” 

Despite him keeping you somewhat at arm’s distance, you found yourself stepping forward to slip your arms around him and pressed yourself against his chest. Arthur was a little slow to respond, but you felt him wrap an arm around your back, his hand coming up to rest against the back of your head and he threaded his fingers through your hair somewhat. You could feel him release a breath at the action, causing you to take in a slow one in return. Smoke, cigarettes, and horse lingered in your nose for a few moments. 

“...You thinkin’ Micah did somethin’?” he asked, making you shut your eyes and release the breath you were holding. 

“I don’t know,” you replied into his chest, “I just know my mind’s trying to tell me something, but I...I can’t make sense of it.” 

Arthur let out a small sound from his chest, letting that linger as you took some comfort in his arms. You could remember the last time you had wrapped your arms around him back when you had visited the Downes’ ranch. This time felt more natural, you supposed. This whole thing with him was starting to. You knew in light of everything that you were still trying to settle on your feelings for him, trying to reconcile them with how you remembered feeling about him in what you could remember. 

“I appreciate everything you have done for me, Arthur,” you muttered, gripping at the back of his shirt for a moment before you released it to pull back somewhat. 

“It’s the least I could do,” he replied after a pause, pulling back somewhat to look at you, “Couldn’t just...toss you aside after everythin’. Not after I…” 

You knew what that unfinished sentence was. You knew he blamed himself in part for what happened, or wholly sometimes. The knowledge of that had you reaching up to rest on his shoulder at the moment, your other still resting somewhat against his side. Neither of you had fully stepped away from the embrace, you could still feel one of his hands resting against part of your back as you shook your head. 

“You know that I never blamed you for all of this, right?” you asked, Arthur dropping his gaze for a moment before he nodded lightly, letting out a sigh through his nose. 

“...I know,” he replied, glancing back up toward him as you met his gaze. 

“You’re one of the few people here who make me feel safe here, Arthur,” you admitted, catching the look on his face that may have suggested that he would disagree. “Wanted.” 

You hadn’t entirely meant to admit the last part, but you knew it to be true. Though, that admission seemed to pull a silence from Arthur, your gaze still on his face as there seemed to be a momentary conflict in him. Yet, his gaze seemed to soften slightly, your heart picking up in pace somewhat as his eyes seemed to move about your face. There was a guarded part of you that had been present since you found them all in that frozen town in the mountains, and at the moment it was telling you that you should shy away from the warmth of his hand against your face. 

Yet, you allowed it, even as he leaned in to press his mouth against yours. 

Arthur’s lips were somewhat dry, yet the action put a flutter in your chest. His stubble prickled somewhat against the skin of your cheeks as you found yourself pressing back into the kiss somewhat, the feeling pulling a small pang of familiarity. You knew that moment during Sean’s party at Horseshoe wasn’t just your imagination running off with a bit of memory that surfaced, now. Yet, the realization seemed to pull something to the forefront of your mind, putting a twist to your gut. Reality seemed to sink in as you stood there, kissing him in a place where anybody could walk over and see. 

Your hand shifted up to push back against his shoulder, breaking away from the kiss as that guarded part of you started to throw up a bit of a wall. Arthur let you pull away, some confusion settling into his expression as you pressed a hand against your mouth before glancing out toward the water for a moment. 

“I shouldn’t--I wish you hadn’t done that--I...damn it,” you said after a moment, not able to control the waver in your voice. 

“Darlin’...” he started, stepping toward you but you ended up shaking your head. 

“I’m sorry,” you continued, “On top of everything I’m trying to sort through, I…” 

You trailed off, catching the shift in his expression as the softness and confusion fell away. Arthur pressed his lips together, lowering his head to where his hat hid his eyes. The sight pulled at your heart somewhat--you knew you weren’t handling this well at all, yet you just…

“I just need some time alone,” you said, voice small.

Arthur didn’t reply, but you ended up turning and walking away anyway. You let out a breath as you did so, feeling that tightness in your chest. 

_You messed up_ , a voice in the back of your head told you, _twice in one day._


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, especially after the previous chapter. Life has been extremely busy for me with wrapping up the semester of university, so I'm hoping my winter break might see some more updates to this. We are also approaching chapters I've had planned for months ahead of time, so I am also hoping I can deliver in writing what I have outlined. lol

It had been a few days since your kiss with Arthur, the event circling in your memory and slowly picking away at any sort of peace of mind you could find recently. 

You knew that you had hurt him by pushing him away like you did, his demeanor changing almost instantly around camp when it came to you. He wasn’t overly cruel or mean, but you could tell that he wanted to be anywhere else when the two of you were forced to interact. Clipped words, the distance. It didn’t help in convincing yourself that you hadn’t made some sort of mistake--and you hadn’t. You had been as genuine as you could have been in that moment, and you knew it just didn’t feel right. 

Telling Arthur that could have certainly helped, yet it was hard to hold a conversation with him unless it was a few quick words while gathering stew from the camp pot in the evenings. So, you gave him some space. 

Considering how busy things were getting in the new camp, it wasn’t hard to do. You noticed a few things--a new person around camp, Trelawny, the deputy star Arthur wore on his shirt. What exactly that was all about, you weren’t sure nor did you really find yourself in a place to ask. Grimshaw had been keeping you busy outside of the small ventures you took outside of camp to pickpocket, which thankfully gave you more time to spend with the women and kept your mind spiralling. Jack did, too, amusingly enough. A few times you had to promise that you would play games or skip stones with him a little later on, but he seemed happy to have your company sometimes. 

So, hearing Abigail catch your attention when you had been returning from Pearson’s wagon one day was something you figured you should have expected. 

“Hey, you wanna sit for a moment?” she asked, her tone friendly as she settled herself down on the bedroll near a lean-to by one of the campfires. 

As much as you knew it wouldn’t be long before you found yourself involved in another thing, especially when you figured it was about time you took some of your stolen goods to the fence and see if you had enough to pay off the Downes debt, you found yourself agreeing. 

“You’ve been lookin’ a little better,” she commented as you sat down beside her, “Less like you were on the losin’ side of a fight.” 

“I might not be all that bruised anymore, but I’m still dealing with the aftermath of the injury,” you replied around a small sigh, gingerly touching the site on your forehead where the wound used to be. 

It didn’t hurt to the touch anymore, and it was obviously disappearing, but you could feel the dent and knew that was the cause of the random headaches from time to time. She wasn’t wrong, however, it was getting better. Your memories, too, as much as large chunks were still missing.

“I figured you was still havin’ trouble rememberin’ things,” Abigail replied after a beat as she had watched you rub at your head, “but you do look to be bouncin’ back.” 

“Yeah, I suppose so.” 

“I just...I know the boy’s been spendin’ some time with you and I guess I wanted to say thanks. It’s usually just me and Jack, his father’s useless when he ain’t runnin’ around.” 

“I, uh...I don’t know a lot about you or John, but watching Jack every now and again isn’t all that much of a bother. It kind of helps break up the pool of drama I’ve found myself in.” 

“Drama?” 

That comment had just slipped out of you without much thought, your eyes widening a fraction at the realization as you glanced toward her. Abigail met your gaze, her expression not exactly excited about the prying question, but it was clear that she was willing to listen. Another small sigh escaped your nose as you pressed your lips together, shrugging as you glanced away. 

“Arthur and I had a falling out a couple days ago,” you replied, “I guess I have just been trying not to think too deeply about it.” 

“Oh. Does that mean you two…?” 

“No, we’re not...separating--as far as I know, at least,” you replied, shaking your head, “He...he kissed me, I kissed back and then pushed him away. I feel like a fool.” 

“I see. Well, guess all you can do is hope you did what you felt was right...” she replied, letting out a sigh of her own as she patted your shoulder before shaking her own head with a light scoff, “Wish my own issues was about bein’ awkward ‘bout affection.” 

“...I’m sorry you and John are having problems,” you replied, “Seems like a theme around here, I’ve heard those terrible fights Dutch and Molly have been having too.” 

“Might be all the more reason to think all that ain’t worth it,” she replied with a sharp, bitter edge. 

You knew she was talking more from frustration over her own situation than giving any genuine advice. A small smile crossed your face as you let out a somewhat amused huff, though the idea of ending this relationship with Arthur put a twist to your gut. 

_ Why the hell were you pushing him away, then? _

With a small grunt, you pushed yourself up to a stand from where you were sitting on the ground, wiping down your legs for a moment. 

“I should get back to work, but...you don’t need to thank me about Jack. I’m happy to help, he’s a nice kid.” 

“It really does help,” Abigail replied, “Folks ‘round here act like they ain’t ever seen a kid sometimes, so it’s nice. I know he’s been happier for it.” 

“Well, that’s all that matters I suppose,” you replied with a light smile, giving Abigail a nod before you turned and made your way toward your own bedroll. 

You decided to go to the fence and see what money you could earn. Get out of camp for a bit. 

* * *

With the bundle of money sitting inside the bag at your side, you couldn’t help the small sense of relief that lingered in your shoulders as the horse you rode trotted back toward camp. You were sure you had enough money to pay off the debt, along with a bit extra--maybe to give to the camp funds. It wouldn’t hurt to let Dutch see you’re helping out outside of your own interests. 

The handful of jewelry and the stash you and Arthur had found was enough to take this one thing off your plate--though, with that thought, you wondered if you should keep some aside to give to him. He had earned it, anyway. Plus...well, it could give you a reason to have a conversation with him that was more than a few words.

Might approach what happened, but you also were conflicted about your reaction to the kiss. 

You shook your head lightly, patting the side of the shire’s neck as you continued toward camp. Deal with paying back the debt, first. 

The camp was relatively calm for the evening that was approaching once you had returned, unsaddling and hitching the horse near the camp’s wagon. Though, you knew a few people were missing, notably Arthur, Karen, Bill, and Lenny. Though, the person you needed to see was still sitting at the table near his wagon, Strauss writing in that book of his as you approached him. 

“I have your money,” you said once you approached the table, Strauss looking up at you with a somewhat tight expression--confused, “...for the Downes debt?”

“Ah, yes,” he replied, raising from his seat, “I do have some news about that. Unfortunately, Thomas Downes has passed away, my condolences. However, the debt is being taken care of so you don’t need to worry about it any longer.” 

“...What? What do you mean?” 

“I know I had agreed to allow you to pay it back, but with the amount of time that has taken and the passing of Thomas Downes, I knew I had to act quickly before they moved away. I have a new list of debtors, I couldn’t wait any longer.” 

“You...My uncle has  _ just _ passed and you already sent someone out to terrorize my aunt and cousin?” you asked, the voice coming out of your mouth almost unfamiliar to you in the rapidly mounting rage that was surging through your gut and head. “Do I need to even ask who you sent?”

“Arthur knows his duty to this gang,” he replied, “I’m sorry that I couldn’t fit to your schedule, but perhaps you should have--” 

You weren’t too sure where it came from, but you heard the hit before you felt the shock of it in your knuckles. The action sparked some mild surprise in you, though not as much as the surprise that crossed Strauss’ face at the punch you threw his way. He staggered back against the side of the wagon, holding the side of his face before the anger flashed in his expression. 

“ _ Are you out of your mind? _ ”

“ _ You slimy bastard, I-- _ ” 

“ _ Enough! _ ” a familiar voice called out from behind you, feeling someone tug you back from the table as Hosea stepped between the both of you, “Can’t read a damn paper in camp these days without somethin’ happenin’.”

“This bastard…” you started through grit teeth. 

“Strauss, take some time to calm down,” Hosea replied, cutting you off as you felt him place a firm hand against the back of your shoulders before he started to push you toward the shore of the lake the camp was situated by. 

“You and I are goin’ for a walk,” he stated, letting his hand drop when you shook it off but otherwise relented to walk away. You could still feel the throbbing in your knuckles, your chest tight. 

You were still trying to wrap your head around what you had just learned. Your uncle was dead, though, with the state of his illness, you knew that was coming at some point. Still, the knowledge hurt, as much as your time with them was short and a source of guilt for you. That bastard decided to collect from them after you had told him you were doing it? After you had promised them nobody would turn up at their home? 

_ Arthur went to do it? _

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” Hosea stated, his tone still stern as you paused at the waterfront, “Growin’ more and more reckless as the days go on. First that stagecoach and now you’re startin’ fights in camp?” 

“I was  _ defending _ myself with that stagecoach, for the last time,” you stated, your voice rough, “Furthermore, Arthur and Strauss have single-handedly ruined  _ any _ chance I had at reuniting with my remaining family. I don’t regret what I did.” 

Hosea paused, his expression still hard but he seemed to relent at that, letting out a sigh and a small rattling cough as he shook his head. 

“I ain’t got anythin’ for Strauss, but Arthur, he…” 

“He what?” you snapped, “He can’t think for himself? That’s very clear.” 

“Easy,” Hosea replied, a small warning in his tone, “Arthur can and does, but...this is more complicated than it looks and we don’t know how this went with him until he gets back here.”

“He’s the last person I want to talk with outside of Strauss, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“I ain’t suggestin’ anythin’ but you might have to talk to him about this,” Hosea stated, “Though, I’m tellin’ you to stay here and cool off before returnin’ to camp.”

“Sure,” you returned, voice tight. 

You just wanted more than anything to be left alone. 

* * *

As evening settled, you found yourself moving a little further down the shore to sit by a tree. You were still very much within the limits of camp, but at least you weren’t so much in the open. It felt like your mind was tearing itself apart, grappling with the exhaustion that your memory loss brought, the guilt you felt toward your family and Arthur, of all people, for that stupid kiss. You could feel the anger mixing badly with betrayal and the pain that brought at the idea of someone you had feelings for disregarding you like that. 

Did he do it out of spite? That didn’t sound like Arthur, you knew, but…

The sound of approaching footfalls put a tightness in your gut, the sound of your name in that familiar drawl grated terribly against the mix of emotions that sat in you. Arthur, at least, had the sense to sound somewhat cautious--tired, too. Yet, you didn’t turn around to face him, still struggling to find your voice as you watched the birds sitting on the surface of the lake for a few moments. 

You weren’t sure how to approach this topic, that rage still lingering as you heard a bitter voice hiss from the back of your mind.  _ So, did you leave grieving mother and son with a few bruises and cuts while you took the last of their money? A couple broken bones? Did you even  _ **_think_ ** _ about me in agreeing to do that? _

“Did you hurt them?” For all the anger that sat in your gut, your own voice was surprisingly small. It was if a part of you didn’t even want to ask. 

“No, I just intimidated ‘em,” Arthur replied, a part of you catching the oddness to his tone--it didn’t quite sound like he was defending himself, just stating fact. Yet, that alone still made your blood boil a little. 

“How charitable,” you remarked with some bite, still not turning to face him. However, you heard him shift, moving around the log you sat on so you could see him somewhat out of the corner of your eye. 

“I know what you was tryin’ to do,” he stated, “I didn’t want to go against that, but Strauss made his own decision. Dutch still wants me debtin’, and I don’t know if you know what the state of camp is like, but I do. We need that money. What choice did I have?”

“Plenty,” you returned, finally turning to meet his gaze, “You could’ve forced Strauss to keep his word--I had the money ready  _ today _ before he told me what you went off to do. I...I trusted you more than anybody in this damn camp.” 

“I know. I know, and...damn it, I’m sorry but...I see the situation this gang’s in and…” 

“No, I get it,” you replied, a tremor to your voice as you could feel your heart pounding, “Gang’s always first, doesn’t matter what we have. I get it now.” 

“What we have?” he asked, a part of you catching the tightness to his tone, “You ain’t the one bein’ yanked ‘round like a damn  _ dog on a lead _ , and not just by camp.” 

His words put some pause in you, that guilt sitting deep in your chest poking through as you registered his words. Oh, you knew this situation wasn’t fair on him, either. Stuck with memories that you didn’t have, a relationship that he couldn’t just forget because you weren’t able to. Yet, you found yourself shaking your head. 

“Y’know, these last couple days, I’d been eating myself up about how I reacted to you kissing me. I couldn’t tell if I made a mistake or not, and I dealt with the aftermath of my choice. The distance, the clipped words. I was hoping that I’d get to talk with you eventually, thought I would do it by giving you your share of the money from that damn treasure map we did together after I paid the debt. Give us a chance to talk, yet...now I’m wondering if I actually made the mistake of not stopping that before it happened.” 

“Maybe you did,” Arthur replied, the shift in tone a little jarring as you lifted your head to see him bow his head before he shook his head, “I didn’t touch any of them, and I know I betrayed you, but felt like I was in a position where I couldn’t say no. I can’t change what I already done.” 

“Yeah,” you returned, that tightness in your chest back, “Please, just...get away from me. I don’t want to talk to you at all right now, this will go nowhere.” 

He didn’t reply, but you knew he complied with your request by the sound of his footfalls heading back toward camp. You didn’t want to see his face or watch him as he went, gripping your hands into your hair as you continued to sit near the water in the approaching darkness of night.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year's Eve! Here is a rather pivotal chapter to lead into 2021. I am not 100% on how much I like this chapter, as I know I had to split it into two parts, but hopefully it's a good read! 
> 
> As usual, this isn't beta'd so there may be mistakes.

_ There was a harsh cold that started to grip at your bones as you pressed on.  _

_ The desert and green from before had fallen away to snow and a chill that you hadn’t been expecting, mountains jutting out in the landscape around and ahead of you. You gripped at the reigns of your horse, occasionally blowing air into your gloves as you tried not to think of the events that had you and the gang pushed up to where you currently were.  _

_ What a damn mess, a small sense of guilt sitting on your shoulders but there was no way you couldn’t do anything. Not for those who had been lost, those who were currently dying, and for the money that had been left behind.  _

_ “How’re you holdin’ up?”  _

_ Arthur’s voice broke into your thoughts, causing you to glance over your shoulder as he rode up. The horse was familiar--Charles’--yet you knew he had lost his own horse in the shootout coming out of Blackwater. You had seen him fall back there, but in the rush you had been pushed to carry on instead of turning back--something he would have ended up encouraging anyway. Still, a small pit of relief settled in your gut upon seeing him.  _

_ “Cold, but fine,” you replied, “It’s good to see you, I had...well.”  _

_ “Ah, I ain’t holdin’ a grudge--no use if both of us ended up shot back there. I made it out. Can’t say the same for Boadicea.” _

_ “I’m still sorry, for both you losing your favorite horse and not turning back when I could’ve. I’d like to make that up to you at some point.”  _

_ “Let’s worry ‘bout survivin’ this before stressin’ over that,” Arthur returned, the look on his face speaking of some forgiveness about the whole thing but you could see an exhaustion there. You knew you couldn’t have turned back, as much as you wanted to, but the guilt still sat.  _

_ “Dutch wants you, me, John, and Micah out ahead,” he continued, breaking you from the trail of thoughts you were about to head down, “John’s already out and I just needed to find you and a horse before headin’ out too.”  _

_ “...Am I leaving with you or…?”  _

_ “Dutch’s got you and Micah lookin’ out over the larger part of the mountain, doesn’t want to lose more folk. My condolences...”  _

_ “It’s only for a bit,” you replied around a sigh, feeling him rest a hand against your shoulder as the horses shifted closer for a few moments.  _

_ Christ, you wished more than anything to be able to actually stop for a moment to collect yourself and the others, but you knew that just wasn’t possible. Especially so now with the new task sitting on your shoulders. You weren’t too sure how far anybody would be willing to follow Dutch and the gang, if they would follow into the snowy hell around you. Yet, it was a risk that couldn’t be taken. Not currently.  _

_ “...Be careful,” you said as Arthur shifted to separate from you, knowing full well that a different set of words sat on your tongue.  _

_ “You too, I ain’t the one ridin’ out with Micah,” he replied with a touch of humor to his voice, but gave you a small nod before urging his horse ahead.  _

_ That damn tightness clenched at your gut, both in a sense of dread for the current situation and a familiar anxiety that was wholly unrelated to the events going on around you. Your fondness for Arthur had only grown throughout your stay with the gang, eventually pushing beyond something platonic once you both seemed to realize that there was something more there. There had been a sense of quiet about it, not really wanting to declare it to the gang--perhaps there had been the want to avoid unnecessary teasing and expectation while it was still so young, plus you knew Arthur had been...rather reserved about the concept in general.  _

_ Something had been holding him back, you knew. Yet, he hadn’t really explained it to you. Not yet, anyway.  _

_ The gang knew now, at least. A weariness had started to form over trying to hide the whole thing, and it had been accepted easily enough. Minus the odd comment. You knew your affections for him had only continued to grow, even with the situation currently. Something stronger had started to sit at the edge of your tongue beyond a “be careful” or “I’m really fond of you.”  _

_ Still, even with all the danger and separating off into the snow, you still couldn’t tell the damn man that you loved him.  _

_ “Focus…” you whispered to yourself around a sigh, squeezing your legs around the sides of your horse as you started to move further up the caravan.  _

_ The last thing you needed now was raised tempers over you dragging your heels.  _

* * *

_ The cold that had been plaguing you before felt like the soft breeze off a lake compared to the fully fledged snowstorm that developed.  _

_ You weren’t too sure how long you had been trailing along after Micah, seeing the form of his horse just ahead of you as the winds whipped snow and ice around you. It was hard to keep pace, your horse pushing through the freshly fallen snow. The area became an unfamiliar blanket of grey and white, some jagged edges to tell you that you were on the mountain but so far that was just it.  _

_ Trying to keep track of the way you came and what laid ahead was difficult, and it felt like Micah was pushing toward some unseen goal.  _

_ It wasn’t hard to let a sense of helplessness sink in.  _

_ “You even know where we’re headed?” you called out into the white toward Micah, who at least lifted his head somewhat to indicate that he could even hear you.  _

_ “Yes,” he called back, “You just follow me! Don’t worry about a thing…” _

_ “I can’t even see more than a couple horse lengths ahead of me,” you returned, “There’s no way you’re seeing anything.”  _

_ “I have it handled. No use turnin’ back, though I’m sure you’d be more than fine with that. Haven’t been shy ‘bout leavin’ others to clean up your messes lately!”  _

_ “The hell are you talking about?”  _

_ “The money in Blackwater!” he called back, causing your brow to furrow, “I told you to go back for that, didn’t I? Took the chance to save yourself instead.”  _

_ “We were in the middle of a gunfight--over a sorry excuse of a job that **you** put together!” you returned, “It was pointless to go back to collect that, not without me dying with it and giving the law a nice view of the stash we had collected!”  _

_ “Just sayin’ you had a chance to better our situation and you tossed it aside--can’t even count for personal ties, either! Heard you turned tail when **your friend** Morgan got his horse shot!”  _

_ “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!” you snapped, feeling that tight feeling in your gut.  _

_ You knew there were opportunities you should have taken that you turned away from, one of which was in a panic that you still regretted. Yet, it wasn’t something Micah needed to dig his fingers into, much less when it was his ferry job that Dutch got hung up on. It had seemed particularly cursed from the jump, and now… _

_ Well, there were a few things you knew you would need to settle, but not going back for the money was one you weren’t going to apologise for.  _

_ “I think I do, though!” Micah called back, pulling a frustrated sigh from you as you squeezed your legs around your horse to move closer to him so you didn’t have to shout over the winds as much.  _

_ “Was clear you had Morgan wrapped ‘round your finger, figured you’d be pullin’ him away from the gang eventually but seems you just want to screw over everybody,” he continued, causing your stomach to drop as a burn of rage started to boil, “Can’t follow orders. You’re a liability if not actually causin’ harm to Dutch’s gang.”  _

_ “Why would I be plotting against Dutch and the gang?” you asked, “I have nothing else but these people.”  _

_ “Flimsy excuse.”  _

_ “How about you shut your mouth before I shut it for you?”  _

_ You knew uttering threats at people in the gang could lead to tension and fights, yet with what he was insinuating, you couldn’t help it. However, you hadn’t expected Micah to slow his horse, causing you to pull back on the reins as he turned his horse somewhat to block the path forward as well as face you more. You could feel your horse move nervously, tossing his head as he sidestepped somewhat toward the edge of the cliff.  _

_ Casting your eyes to the side, you could see the drop, the snow blowing down into a dark abyss as night started to gather around you. Though, the snowstorm only made that all the worse.  _

_ “Lost a lotta folk,” he continued, causing you to glance back toward Micah as you tried to keep your horse away from the drop, “Yet, we all need to survive in this life. I’m thinkin’ those who make that difficult aren’t ones to be keepin’ around.”  _

_ “You sound like some dime novel villain,” you replied, around a somewhat nervous scoff, “How’s that your choice to make, anyway?”  _

_ “Knowin’ what I do, and thinkin’ what I think, I don’t think Dutch would be too against cuttin’ this loss too.”  _

_ “You don’t know anything, you bastard,” you snapped, shifting to grip at the handle of the pistol at your hip. Micah seemed to mirror the movement, though actually went so far to remove the weapon and point it toward you.  _

_ The notion put a stillness in you, your heart in your throat. You knew that you weren’t a fast draw or a gunslinger by any means, and the current situation did not give you any advantages. Still, you let out a huff of air, slowly raising your hand up and away from your weapon. You could feel the action taking a stab at your pride, but you knew he would likely shoot you before you could make any further moves.  _

_ “You going to shoot me?” you asked, “You’re the only person out here with me, if I go missing you’ll be the one they turn eyes to first.”  _

_ Micah made no move to remove his aim for you for a few moments, the only sound was the wind whipping around you both and your horse’s nervous shifting and snorting. However, he seemed to let out a small chuckle and dropped his aim. Yet, he seemed instead to take aim somewhere else. The shot was purposeful, shooting at the ground near your horse as if he were taking some sort of warning shot toward you.  _

_ In your anxious state, the noise caused you to flinch and, worse, your horse seemed to get fed up with the situation. He gave a quick kick behind him before the horrifying realization that he was going to rear flashed into your mind. You tried to grip at the reins, but with the cold seeping into your poor clothing and your nerves already shot from the confrontation, you didn’t get a good enough grip.  _

_ You fell off as he reared back, landing back and head first onto the ground. The motion sent you rolling a little, your arms shooting out to find purchase on whatever ground you could once you realized that there was no ground under your legs. However, all you could seem to grab for a few moments was fresh snow and ice, a scream releasing from your throat as you fell off the side of the mountain.  _

_ The open air was a terrifying sensation for a few moments before you collided with something hard and solid, your ribs hitting first before your head slammed against a rock. The impact caused a heavy ringing to fill your ears, your world shifting as blackness quickly ate away at your vision as you tumbled off the surface and continued to plummet.  _

* * *

You woke with a start, a hand flying up to smother the yell that ripped from your throat.

It took you a moment to gather your bearings, to feel the humid heat of your current camp and the chatter of the early evening. You let out a slow sigh, feeling your heart hammering in your chest as you shut your eyes again, dropping the hand from over your mouth as you released another breath. 

It had been an easier day, you had finished your tasks and laid down for a bit in the afternoon. You weren’t on that mountain, you were here. You weren’t there with--Micah. 

You opened your eyes again, staring up at the branches of a nearby tree. What the hell were you supposed to do now? March into camp and yell at him for killing you in a _dream?_ That...that wasn’t a dream, though. You knew that in your heart of hearts. The details were already fading somewhat, but the main points lingered like they were hard to shake. It felt as real as anything you were sure were memories. The emotions, too. 

You couldn’t mention this to anybody, either. It had been a day or two, but you and Arthur still weren’t talking. Dutch and Hosea probably wouldn’t take it seriously if you explained that you saw it in a damn dream. 

With shaking legs, you gathered yourself up to a stand and tried to make your way toward a quiet part of the shore of the lake that the camp sat near. You could feel that your stomach was empty, but you weren’t sure if you could keep anything down with how it was twisting. The events of the dream plagued you, the words circling. 

_What do I do?_

Finally, you reached the waters before you found yourself kneeling down to gather some of the water in your hands and splashed it on your face. You shut your eyes, willing your eyes to shut but the dread and anxiety wouldn’t leave. There was a burning behind your nose, a tightness in your chest. 

“Aunty?” 

The small voice pulled you from your thoughts, the tears in your eyes making Jack appear as some watery blob when you glanced toward him. You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, pressing a hand against your mouth as you turned to glance back toward the water near your free hand and will the sobs back. 

However, Jack moved over to your side and sat down in the dirt, leaning against the arm you were using to hold yourself up. He seemed to preoccupy himself with picking rocks out of the sand, a part of you wanting to chuckle at the sweetness of it. 

“Do you want me to get Uncle Arthur?” he asked after a moment, glancing toward you. You shook your head, letting out a breath as you removed your hand from over your mouth. 

“No, I’ll be okay. He’s probably busy.” 

“Okay…” he replied, glancing down at the rocks he collected, “I skipped a rock today! Papa was there.” 

“Oh, that’s...that’s great. Good job,” you replied, your voice sounding somewhat steadier, if only a little thick with tears. 

“You wanna see?” Jack asked, rising from where he was sitting as you let out a small chuckle. 

“Sure, buddy.” 

Micah was wrong, there was no way you could hurt these people. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the patience after last chapter, life has picked up again for me but I wanted to put another part of this out again. There's a part of a mission near the end here that has some canon dialogue, but I'm hoping it has enough original content around it that it's not too boring. 
> 
> Anyway, this is un-beta'd per usual so there may be mistakes.

_What the hell were you going to do now?_ **  
**

The question plagued you for a couple days since that terrible sleep, a part of you liking to doubt what you thought you knew about it by calling it a dream, yet there was also a part of you that felt like it was more than that. It was wholly indecisive, a war that went back in your head for the last couple days. Chores had become all the more monotonous and you wondered what you were doing with yourself very often. 

You knew that you wanted to tell someone, yet you knew that doing so wasn’t as simple as it seemed. You knew you had fallen, suffered a terrible injury that took your strength and memories away. It nearly left you freezing to death, and you had a solid idea that Micah had been the one to put you in that situation. 

However, how would you make them believe you? 

You weren’t completely unobservant to the goings-on in camp, you knew Dutch liked Micah for some reason. It was hard to find something to like about the man, from what you had seen of him. Really, you had elected to avoid him where possible. Yet, you knew it would eventually grow hard to keep doing so. If you had to interact with that memory sitting in your head…

What if you were wrong? You knew you had a hard time trusting your own mind lately, yet...something about what you remembered happening didn’t feel wrong. It didn’t seem like something you had just made up. It had sat, lingering on the edge of remembrance and you didn’t want to acknowledge it. 

You just didn’t want to be dismissed. You didn’t want to stay in a camp with the person who had tried to murder you. 

“How’re you holdin’ up?” 

The familiar voice startled you out of your thoughts, turning your head sharply with wide eyes. Arthur stood somewhat awkwardly, his brow tightening somewhat as he seemed to take in your expression from where you were sitting. You let out a small breath, turning your head to look back out toward the water. 

“As well as I can be, I guess.” 

“Mary-Beth’s concerned, said she noticed a change in you,” he commented, “asked me to check in. Guess I wanted to, too.” 

“Oh.” You hadn’t thought you had been that obvious, yet...well, with everything sitting on your mind, you had found it very easily to slip into the mess that was there lately. 

“I know I’m the last person you want to be talkin’ to right now, but we do gotta talk,” he said after a moment, your ears picking up on him approaching where you were sat near the shore by camp. 

It was true, you hadn’t really been wanting to talk to him lately. Yet, on top of everything, you had almost let that settle into the back of your mind. 

Still, you couldn’t find it in yourself at the moment to protest his presence, Arthur moving around to sit down on the same log as you. He let out a small sigh, letting a silence linger for a few moments as you waited for him to say what he needed to. Back when you had first lost your memories and learned that you had been romantically involved with him, you had thought things couldn’t get any more awkward and confusing as that. 

Yet, sitting with him in the moment, you wanted nothing more than to cave into yourself from the stress of it all. As much as what you remembered about Micah on that mountain dominated your thoughts, the other parts of the memory hadn’t left you either. That genuine guilt over leaving someone you cared about behind, possibly to die. There had been that specific affection you held for him, the frustration at not being able to say what you truly felt about him. 

That person and the person sitting on the log with him in the moment felt like two different people. Yet, you somehow had to try to merge those experiences into your current. 

It felt like trying to shove your shoulder through a brick wall at points. 

“I’m sorry…” Arthur started after a moment, his voice surprisingly quiet from how it had been a few moments ago, “For what I did to your family, for doin’ that while I knew you was tryin’ to pay their debt.” 

“I know you are, Arthur,” you replied, “Yet, that doesn’t change what happened.” 

“No, it don’t. I wasn’t hopin’ it would,” he replied around a sigh, “You can hate me all you want for that, I deserve it. Yet...I-I don’t feel like I got much power here.” 

You lifted your gaze toward him at the tone in his voice, as much as you had been struggling to do so since he sat down. There was a certain frustration sitting there, a desperation, that you hadn’t heard from him before. Arthur didn’t meet your gaze, letting out a slow breath as he seemed to be collecting his words. 

“I don’t wanna make this ‘bout myself, but I hate doin’ that type of work,” he continued, “When I first joined this gang, I had always been told we was not goin’ to rob folk who don’t need to be robbed. Rich folk, other gangs, but...these people? They’re just tryin’ to get by and I know that. Yet...I’m good at intimidatin’, I’m good at violence.” 

“That’s not all you have to be,” you stated, “I...when I woke up...I had thought that I had stepped into a group of violent murderers, and I’m not so blind to think you’re _not_ violent and people don’t die, but...it’s more complicated than that. You’ve shown me a kindness, an understanding. I guess...maybe I did forget about what goes on around here a little bit, but I had thought that…” 

You had thought you were closer than what happened, that it would have had him standing up a bit for you. Or, at least, your motives. 

“...You ever try to stop collecting debts if you hate it so much?” you asked after your pause, meeting his gaze for a few moments before he dropped it somewhat in thought. 

“I...the way things is right now, I ain’t sure I can,” he replied, “If it was just Strauss forcin’ me, I would’ve stopped a while ago. Yet, Dutch has turned it into a reliable source of money. It goes against everything he stands for, even says that sometimes, but he ain’t cut it out.” 

“Why doesn’t he?”

Arthur let out a soft scoff, “I dunno, might be somethin’ to ask him if he’ll hear it these days.”

That...didn’t sound good. Even Arthur’s facial expression tightened somewhat at the words that had just left his mouth, yet he didn’t say anything else for a few moments before he shook his head, glancing back toward you. 

“I’m tryin’ to hold things together. Feels like I’m holdin’ most of the weight of that, sometimes, and...I dunno, guess I felt like I had _no alternative_ in that situation. Dutch thinks we got somethin’ here between these two families, might get us out of this mess. Next list of debtors I get...I dunno, I’ll think ‘bout if we really need that type of money.” 

“...Sure.” The word left your mouth somewhat resigned. You knew deep down that you couldn’t force him to do anything, and even if it did stop...well, _the damage was done._ Yet, you had to admit that this conversation felt a little more productive than the one you had with him right after the fact. 

“Arthur…” you started after a moment, “I...I can’t say I forgive you for what you did to my aunt and uncle. I...I guess I understand why you felt like you needed to, but...I don’t know. I still need time with this. After...I’ve had a lot on my mind lately. I appreciate you approaching me about it again, but I need more time with it.” 

“I understand,” he replied with a nod, “I ain’t expectin’ your forgiveness. I care ‘bout you-- _a lot_ \--but I know it ain’t that simple.” 

“It’s really not.” God, you wanted to tell him about the mountain. Out of everybody, you knew he was the most likely to believe you, yet you found it sitting behind your teeth instead. 

You needed to be _sure._

“Just…” Arthur started after a moment, raising from where he was seated, “if you need anythin’...” 

You could appreciate the offer, yet you knew for the time being it would be torn between just wanting to go back to how things were before all of this and not wanting to ask him for anything. Yet, you knew that there was no changing anything about what happened. It was just a matter on how you wanted things to be moving forward. At the moment, you really weren’t too sure what to say to that. 

Instead, you just gave him a nod, letting him walk off after as you let out a sigh through your nose. Despite everything sitting on your mind, at least talking about one of those things left you feeling like you weren’t as stuck. 

You just had some decisions to make. 

* * *

A couple days had passed since your conversation with Arthur. You could still feel the weight of everything you had talked about, everything said and unsaid, yet you tried to pick yourself back up a bit. There was the issue of Micah, of course, but you figured you would get a chance to sort that out with some more thought. 

You tried to put some more work in around camp, making sure to give Mary-Beth a light pat on the back shortly after and to thank her for the concern. She had sheepishly admitted to asking Arthur to check on you, yet you couldn’t really bring yourself to blame her. 

Though, you tried to let things settle in your mind a bit, yet it didn’t seem like much had settled in camp before it seemed like another big event was going to take place. 

Really, you hadn’t meant to listen in on the conversation. Yet, with it happening in the middle of camp, it was hard to miss as you lingered somewhat near one of the tents as you heard Dutch greet Micah, Arthur, and Pearson as he approached. Pearson’s voice seemed to catch your ear. 

“It’s peace, Dutch. With the O’Driscolls,” he stated as the gang’s leader stepped into the tent behind him, “I mean, I think there’s a way.” 

“What on earth are you talkin’ about?” Dutch asked. 

“Get the words out _properly_ , fat man…” Micah prompted with a slight wave of his hand. 

Pearson seemed to launch into a bit of a story about meeting some men in a saloon, mentioning something about tigers. You had wandered closer, not too sure what was happening but Micah seemed to be at the head of it and you couldn’t help but want to listen in. Still, you managed to remain far enough away to not cause them to catch you. 

“They suggested a parlay,” Pearson concluded, “to end things like gentlemen.” 

“ _Gentlemen?_ ” Dutch returned, his tone disbelieving, “Colm O’Driscoll? Have you lost your minds?”

“You’re always tellin’ us, Dutch,” Micah started, “do what needs to be done, but don’t fight wars not worth fightin’.” 

“They want a parley?” Hosea called out from where he was sitting at a camp table nearby, “It’s a trap.” 

“Well, of course it’s...probably a trap,” Micah said, turning to address him somewhat before looking back toward Dutch, “but what have we got to lose?”

“ _Get shot_ ,” Arthur commented. 

“We ain’t gettin’ shot because you’ll be protectin’ us,” Micah returned, placing a hand on Arthur’s shoulder that he shook off, “If it’s a trap, you kill the lot. If it’s not, that slim chance…” 

“I don’t see the point in _any_ of this…” Dutch replied, stepping past them to walk toward the table where Hosea was sitting. You shifted back somewhat, crossing your arms as you watched on curiously. 

“It’s a chance we gotta take,” Micah asserted, following Dutch toward the table as the other man rested his hands on the top of it. 

“I killed Colm’s brother…” Dutch started, “...a long time ago. Then he killed...a woman I loved dear…” 

“As you say,” Micah returned after a short pause, “it’s a long time ago, Dutch.” 

There was a bit of a pregnant pause as Dutch seemed to decide on the course of action. You couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your gut, especially with how hard Micah seemed to be pushing things. Admittedly, you only knew a handful of information about the O’Driscolls from what you heard around camp and what you had just heard from Dutch’s mouth. Yet...well, even you were uncertain. 

“...Let’s go,” Dutch decided, “you, me, and Arthur protectin’ us. _No one else._ ” 

“What about me?” Pearson asked. 

“This ain’t the time for _tigers_ , my friend.” 

You stepped forward as the group dispersed, watching as Dutch, Micah, and Arthur headed toward the horses. A part of you was really wanting to quickly run over to catch Arthur’s arm, ask if he’s really certain about this. Yet...well, with Micah and Dutch waiting on him, you could imagine the answer. 

_‘I don’t feel like I got much power here.’_

“Shit,” you cursed, stopping your walk short as you saw them mount up and ride off into the wooded path leading out of camp. 

“You ain’t sure about this, either?” 

Hosea’s voice came from over your shoulder as he walked up to where you were standing, staring off after the spot your gaze was lingering on. 

“No. What can we do about it, though?”

“We wait,” Hosea replied, placing a hand on your shoulder, “Hope nothin’ happens.” 

You could hope all you want, but there was that sinking feeling in your gut that left you feeling all sorts of conflicted. It was hard to shake, and would be until they returned. You didn’t want to blame it on a pre-existing dislike of Micah, but with the memory of the purposeful gunshot he placed toward your horse that caused your fall…

Well, who could really blame you for being anxious about this? 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am uncertain about the pacing of this chapter, but I figure that's as good as I'll get it for now. As always, thank you all for following this story and your feedback! It definitely keeps me going. 
> 
> As usual, this is unbeta'd so there may be mistakes.

Arthur hadn’t returned to camp with Dutch and Micah. 

You knew he could hold his own, often left to do his own thing in general, but the sight had been enough to put a stone of worry in your gut. Over the last couple days you had taken some comfort in Arthur not being one to linger around camp for overly long periods of time, yet all that relief just translated to a sense of dread in the current moment. What if the last time you saw him was watching him take off through those trees, everything that happened between you sitting unresolved? 

You couldn’t think like that. 

Try as you did to carry on like normal, to keep yourself out of the affairs of the camp and Dutch, the hours and eventual days that dragged on just further pushed the feeling forward. You kept spacing out during camp chores, becoming more prone to mistakes. You had caught both sympathetic and irritated glances in equal share sometimes. Yet, somehow, a couple days had managed to slip by--still no Arthur. That...had to be odd, right? Given the dramatics that sent them out of camp in the first place, wouldn’t he have returned? 

Apparently, the meeting with these O’Driscolls didn’t account to much, anyway, which only added to the weight of anxiety on your shoulders. 

Eventually, you found yourself having to turn to someone you weren’t exactly looking to talk with. Hosea had proven to be the easier one to talk to, but Dutch would have some sort of answer that wasn’t just speculation. He had been there. At least, that was your hope as you found yourself approaching his tent in the evening. You only had a handful of interactions with Dutch himself, most of them toeing the line of tense recently. 

Yet, you just had to ask. 

“Dutch?” 

The man had busied himself with a book-- _ how could he read at a time like this? _ However, upon hearing your voice, he lifted his head, a look of mild surprise crossing his face as you stood at the entrance of his tent. You found yourself crossing your arms, if only to keep yourself from fidgeting too much. 

“What do I owe the visit, Miss?” he asked, closing his book as he turned his attention towards you. At least he was allowing you that much. 

“I...I imagine you have already been asked about this, and I know what he is like, but I guess...I guess I’m worried about Arthur.” 

To put it lightly, at least. 

“I can see that,” he commented, “However, I wouldn’t be. If I know anythin’ about that boy, he’ll turn up here soon  _ just fine. _ ” 

“That’s what I’m hoping for, but with this situation...well, isn’t it odd?” 

“ _ Everythin’ _ about that situation was odd,” Dutch said, “Yet, I wouldn’t worry so much,  _ so soon. _ I wouldn’t leave anybody in this gang behind, but I don’t see much reason to go out searchin’ just yet. He could be takin’ his time to make sure he ain’t followed. It’s only been a couple days.” 

_ Yeah, a couple days of _ \--you let out a sharp exhale through your nose as you could feel frustration starting to mount. As much as a part of you wanted to demand to know what happened, what exactly happened, you knew Dutch likely wouldn’t take well to being interrogated. If there wasn’t a dismissal of your concern in his words, you didn’t know what else was in there. 

“I understand your concern,” Dutch continued, meeting your gaze with something that might have been some attempt at sympathy--however, you could sense that he was starting to close himself off to the conversation. “Yet, I wouldn’t doubt Arthur so much. Give him some more time to get back on his own.”

“...Fine, Dutch. If you’re so confident.” 

You knew your words were mostly resigned, but you could feel that sense of frustration and worry lingering just behind them. Still, you figured that was all you would get out of him, so you gave him a short nod in goodbye before turning to leave. However, you caught sight of a familiar leather jacket and white hat, Micah watching you from where he was leaning against a barrel nearby. You could sense his intention to speak. 

_ Shit. _

“Didn’t know you cared,” he said once you hand wandered past him, causing your stomach to clench with further anxiety. Did you really have to deal with him right now? “Considerin’ your, uh,  _ lover’s quarrel. _ Last I heard, Arthur ain’t the only one you’ve been fightin’.” 

“I still care about him,” you commented, not slowing in your pace but you knew he was following--you wanted to curse, tell him to piss off. “And I laid that other stuff to rest. It’s none of your business anyway.” 

“Been avoidin’ me, too, since I came back. Kinda hurts, miss.” You highly doubted that. “Oh, maybe you forgot all about me. You need me to  _ reintroduce _ myself?” 

“No, I know  _ exactly _ who you are, Micah,” you returned, trying to keep your voice even but you could feel a bite rising up, “What I do need from you is to leave me be.” 

“I know you had that terrible fall, never got the chance to say how  _ unfortunate _ that was,” he continued, making you pause as you could feel your heart start to hammer in your chest, “I blame myself, truly.” 

“You should,” you snapped, turning to face him, “Don’t play me for a fool, I know exactly what you did.” 

A part of you regretted saying that, considering the look in Micah’s eyes but it had slipped out in a rush of anger.  _ He had tried to kill you, and if he succeeded in doing so with Arthur in another scheme-- _

“I have no idea what you’re goin’ on about,” he remarked. 

“I think you do,” you challenged, feeling the bite of your nails digging into the skin of your palms, “If I can remember it, I’m sure you do.” 

“What exactly  _ do _ you remember?” he asked, stepping closer to you, which made you step back. 

“I know that you thought I was dead weight, a traitor,” you replied, “that you purposely--” 

“Micah, why don’t you leave her be?” 

Karen’s voice cut across your words, feeling as if you had been shaken from some stupor. Micah’s gaze lingered on your own before he shifted it to give Karen a look as she walked up behind you. 

“If it ain’t clear, we’re havin’ a conversation,” he replied, his voice as indifferent as it could be in the moment, but you caught the tension sitting under it.  _ Shit. _

“Yeah, well Grimshaw needs her, so you can go talk with  _ her _ ,” she returned just as sharply, you feeling her taking your upper arm in her grasp before she was leading you away from the moment. 

That had to have been a mistake--you shouldn’t have said anything, let alone with just Micah by himself.

“Looked like he was cornerin’ you,” she muttered once the two of you were far enough away, releasing her hold on your arm, “You alright?”

“Yeah--yeah, I’m just...worried about Arthur and then he started trailin’ after me.” 

“I’m startin’ to get concerned too, but--” 

Karen had led you over toward where Mary-Beth and Tilly were, your attention pulled momentarily away from her when you saw Mary-Beth almost shoot up to her feet, her eyes on something near the entrance of camp. 

“Oh, my god!” she exclaimed before taking off toward where the horses were hitched. You glanced toward the commotion in time to see a figure slide off the side of a horse and collapse onto the ground, your stomach dropping. 

_ You recognized that horse. _ Instantly, you started walking over but faltered somewhat as Karen and Dutch joined Mary-Beth in helping him from the ground.

You wanted to run over as well to see what was happening, what state he was in. However, a sudden fear of seeing Arthur’s corpse seemed to root you to the spot until you saw them sitting him up, Arthur moving and you could make out the raspiness of his voice talking about a  _ set up _ and the  _ law. _ A feeling bubbled up at the words, but you ended up shoving them down as you watched them help Arthur get to his cot. 

He could barely stand straight, almost too weak to walk properly, and his clothing had been reduced to just his union suit. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to even approach, to help get him to bed. You watched on with a number of feelings and thoughts swirling around your head, the distress almost breaking out into a familiar headache. 

It wasn’t until Grimshaw was sitting in the chair beside his cot and the crowd had dispersed that you found yourself wandering over. Arthur didn’t look well, sweat and dirt clinging to his skin, blood staining the fabric of his union suit around what appeared to be a closed gunshot wound. You saw Grimshaw move to glance toward you out of the corner of your eye, a small silence lingering until she seemed to pick up on your unasked question. 

“It looks like he closed his own wound,” she commented, sombre and tired, “Only time and rest will tell if he is handling infection, but he is warm.” 

“I could get a bucket of water and a rag,” you replied, finding your voice, “Help keep him cool.” 

“That would be of great help.” 

You nodded, turning to head toward Pearson’s wagon in order to grab the bucket. Given the events of the day, you had a feeling you would have had a late night anyway. You just hoped the inaction wouldn’t end up costing Arthur his life, fate giving you the punishment of getting to see it with your own eyes. 

* * *

You wrung the rag out into the bucket of the water between the chair and the cot, waiting for most of the droplets to fall back in. 

Arthur had been in and out over the last day or so, not really fully aware of where he was or he would just groan in pain before passing out again after that had been taken care of. It was...a sorry sight, but a part of you was thankful that people seemed to allow you to sit with him every now and again. Your thoughts had been running wild since he had dragged himself back to camp. What had happened? He had obviously been injured, but was all of this about a trap? You had kicked yourself a bit for not having more of a backbone and had approached him before he took off--yet, what good would that have done in the long run? 

Mostly, you just felt...guilty. You weren’t exactly what for, but the feeling sat in your gut all the same. 

You let out a small sigh through your nose, trying to shake the thoughts from your head somewhat. However, as you glanced up, you met Arthur’s gaze as he seemed to be staring at you somewhat intently. It was a little startling, but you noticed that there was more awareness to his gaze than there had been over the last couple days. 

“You’re awake,” you observed, somewhat lamely, as you placed the cloth back on his forehead. Arthur shut his eyes again at the feeling, letting out a small sound from the back of his throat. 

“Am I?” 

“Well, you can see me and I can see you, so maybe,” you returned with some light humor, as much as it went without much reaction from him. 

However, you found yourself reaching out to rest your hand over his own that rested on his stomach. The action caused him to open his eyes again, turning his head somewhat to meet your own as you gave him a small grin and his hand a squeeze. 

“‘S good to see you...” he muttered, the words putting a small tightness to your chest. 

“I was worried,” you admitted, “Having you turn back up at camp like that, it scared the hell out of me.” 

“...Part ‘f me was scared I’d die there,” he seemed to continue, sounding like he was still struggling to string his words together but it was progress from the incoherent mutters you had been hearing from him so far. “I’d die and we’d still be fightin’.” 

You dropped your gaze from his face, tilting your head downwards with a soft nod. You could relate, a part of you had felt scared about that too. There wasn’t any guilt for how you felt towards how he treated your family, how he went about collecting the last of Thomas’ debt, but...in light of that, there had been this fear as well. 

“...You should get some rest,” you replied, lifting your head back up to look at him again, “We can talk about that once you’re feeling better.” 

Arthur let out a small noise, something close to a sigh and a grunt. He shut his eyes again, but when you felt him shift the hand that you had been gently grasping, you released your hold. However, you felt him wrap his fingers around your own instead. His hand was somewhat clammy, but he seemed to want to keep your own pressed against his chest. 

You really wanted to ask what happened to him--this didn’t seem like just a bullet that had grazed him while he fled. Grimshaw had mentioned that it looked like the wound had already been closed by the time he got back to camp, cauterized, before you had helped wrap a bandage around it. Where had his clothes and weapons gone? You had heard some chatter about some people in camp wanting to head out to go pick them up, if they could find out where he had been taken. 

Really, you were more keen to stay in camp and make sure the fever didn’t take him in the heat. Still, it would be a nice gesture. 

You felt Arthur squeeze your fingers somewhat tighter, pulling you from your thoughts as his rough voice filled the silence again. 

“In Colter…” he started, cracking open an eye again, “you slept for a long while. Thought you wasn’t goin’ to wake up…” 

You let out a small exhale, almost like a chuckle but the humor was lacking. “I could say the same for you right now, Arthur.” 

“Don’t wanna lose you…” he muttered, almost a whisper but you picked it up well enough to put a sting to your eyes. Arthur shut his eyes after that, letting out a small sigh through his nose. You watched him for a moment, feeling some relief at seeing his chest rise and fall again. 

For a few moments, you thought back to that night at Horseshoe where he had, semi-drunkenly, cornered you at the outskirts of camp and told you that he missed you. It had hurt to hear, and confused you then too. It wasn’t a memory you looked back on often, something that had been brought on by the alcohol and brushed off easily enough once he had apologized for it. Yet, you had known in the moment it had been real. 

As much as he was currently soaked in fever, you knew it was true at this moment too. 

God, the current moment sat in your throat, threatening to choke you as you blinked hard. It was...hard to place your feelings for him. In your memories from before that mountain and Micah, you knew you had loved him. That had felt so real then, and you knew those feelings still lingered in the back of your mind. Rationality kept you from just taking them as the whole truth, the situation and your relationship had to have changed since then. There was anger in you toward him, too, that betrayal sitting in your chest. Arthur Morgan wasn’t a good man, yet in a way he also was. 

You knew you couldn’t exactly forgive him for what he did to your grieving aunt and cousin, yet you also knew you wanted to move on. Deep down, you knew he was sorry for it, as much as he often felt pushed into the corner about it. You wanted to trust that he would grow from what happened, that his words about weighing the necessity of the next list of debtors was true. However, you weren’t blind. You knew that he was loyal to the gang above all else, you wouldn’t be able to really change him. 

That was a task that was just too much for you in the moment, anyway. Yet...you knew he had this side to him, too. The one who had shown you patience and understanding in the face of losing your memories, your confusion over who you were, are, and wanted to be going forward. What to do with your relationship with him, as much as his side of it was still very much alive in him if the current situation was anything to go by. 

As complicated as the situation was, you knew deep down that you were tired of being scared of moving forward with him. Despite the situation, and his bad decisions, you had feelings for him. You cared about him. 

You let out a shaky sigh, bowing your head as you squeezed his hand back for a moment before gently removing your hand from his loosening grasp as sleep seemed to take him again. You rubbed a hand across the wetness to your eyes, shaking your head. 

“I don’t think I could go anywhere else if I tried,” you admitted quietly, knowing full well he couldn’t hear it but you had to admit it out loud to yourself. 

As much as your confrontation with Micah lingered in the back of your mind, the paranoia involved with that, you figured you would finally allow yourself the relief of doing that at the very least. 


End file.
